


Whatever The Weather

by colepaldigirl



Category: British Actor RPF, Doctor Who RPF, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-08-13
Packaged: 2018-07-26 10:31:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 25,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7570738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colepaldigirl/pseuds/colepaldigirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little collection of tiny Colepaldi One Shots that can be seen to hang together in a rough timeline from when they met and started on Doctor Who to present day but its not an exact science. Currently runs to the end of series 9 and on hiatus to allow me to write something else!</p><p>Funny bits, sexy bits, fluffy bits, moderate angst and only slight realism. </p><p>This is RPF (please see my usual warning on my bio). Please read with suspended disbelief and a bucket of salt, its just for fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Ice- Breaking

It had all started that first week of the shoot, January; grey, bleak and Baltic. She hardly really knew him yet but Peter’s trailer was the nearest and acted as a little beacon of hope in the darkening afternoon. Jenna, still in costume and shivering, scuttled through parked cars and trucks and headed straight to her target. Co-star trailer. Place of Warmth. Only inhabitant pleasant older man who would be polite and lend her a sweater. Probably. He seemed the type.

They’d had lunch before Christmas as a way to get to know one another. She discovered he liked omelettes and he didn’t want ‘romance’ on the show but beyond that she didn’t have much detail yet. He was funny and sweet and they’d got on well, they talked back and forth for ages and easily, but he steered the conversation towards her, made her comfortable, made her talk about herself more than she should have.

He was kind, she knew that. He looked like the kind of gentleman who would look after a girl if she was frozen half solid from standing about on location for ages in a silly Victorian frock. He was generous, and the crew liked him, and he let them share his sweets and coffee. Importantly, perhaps most importantly given the circumstances, he wore multiple layers all the time because he was always cold.

Always cold. Yeah, she was beginning to know what that felt like.

Jenna stood on the step of the trailer and banged on the door, jigging up and down on the spot. It swung open a moment later, a wall of warmth coming from inside. Peter, already needlessly tall, looked down at her curiously as she bounced.

‘Jenna,’ he said and frowned, ‘Ladies’ out of order?’ he guessed.

‘What?’ Jenna looked down and stopped her jigging, ‘Oh no, I’m cold.’

‘Oh!’ he said with an air of confused realisation, ‘Right.’

‘Can I come in it looks warm?’ she asked blowing on her already gloved hands.

‘Sure,’ Peter stepped back and let her pass. Jenna made straight for the little fan heater Peter had brought from home. The fact that he had done that at all had made her crease with laughter. She accused him of being an old man but now, _now_ she could see the value. She also rather liked that he didn’t much bother about what people thought, he wanted to be warm even if people teased him. She turned her head and saw him looking at her with an ‘Oh so you like my heater now do you?’ look, all raised eyebrows and pursed lips.

‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘About before, I now see its worth. It’s a very nice heater.’

Peter laughed and she smiled back at his infectious good humour.

‘When you get to my age you not only need it, but don’t care if people take the mickey. So… how can I warm you up?’ he said with a slightly flirtatious look that made her shake her head in despair. ‘Tea, coffee? Kettle’s just boiled. I might even have hot chocolate?’ he asked.

‘Oh that would be amazing,’ she said, ‘Tea? Just milk? You don’t have a blanket do you, or a jumper?’ she’d drawn her arms around herself and was hunched forward on the edge of her seat to capture as much warmth as possible. She thought she felt her teeth chatter.

‘If this is so you can steal that jumper I wore the other day…I know what women are _always_ nicking men’s jumpers. Just buy a bigger woman’s one if you want it all baggy.’

She giggled and mock considered. ‘Steal it? Maybe. No… I’m just so cold. This dress, it looks amazing but it’s not exactly toasty. I had a jacket but we’ve all been standing about for ages and they said they were going for a take so I took it off, and then nothing happened… so we stood a bit more and I think the runner still has my bloody coat….’ she rambled on.

‘I wondered what was going on,’ Peter said from the kitchen counter, ‘I’ve been waiting to be called. Managed half a novel so far.’ Jenna heard the clink of mugs and spoons and he turned towards her, tea in hand and moved to set it down in front of her. Jenna carefully removed her costume gloves and wrapped her hands around the hot cup.

‘Ah…. My hands are so cold that actually hurts,’ she moaned and held it by the handle instead.

Peter appeared beside her and removed the mug as he sat down. He handed her a black sweater which she grasped eagerly; Jenna pulled it over her head and her hands vanished into the sleeves. She tried flexing her numb fingers and rubbing them with limited success.

‘Here,’ Peter instructed reaching for her cold fingers. He held them together between his palms and blew warm air over them. Jenna laughed.

‘Never rub them,’ he said sagely.

‘Oh?’ she said.

‘I’m Scottish I know about these things,’ he quipped, ‘No. Always warm them like this, warm air, or skin to skin contact,’ he looked up from his task and caught her eye with his. Jenna felt her heart stop for a second. She’d acted opposite him for a week now and was growing more used to his features, how they moved, what to expect from him. However, this, she didn’t expect, the beautiful green blues in his eyes were as warm as his smile and quite different from the greys she had seen earlier in the day when working. He cocked his head and looked at her, amused. His laughter lines crinkled beautifully.

‘You okay,’ he asked, ‘What is it?’

‘Nothing, I just… what colour are your eyes actually?’ she blushed realising it was a strange question but he smiled as though used to it and carried on warming her hands in his own.

‘Ah,’ he said, ‘Well that depends who I’m looking at….’

‘Oh?’ she asked feeling her numb fingers start to thaw.

‘Mmhmm… same as my mothers, when she was younger I mean,’ he said and then blew into his cupped palms where Jenna’s hands were hiding, tiny compared to his. ‘When she was angry they’d be grey, like stormy sky, my dad used to say. But if she was happy, they’d sparkle blue. Transformed her completely. She was very beautiful and they were uncannily bright.’

‘That’s lovely,’ Jenna said.

‘It was like some kind of mood barometer, you knew it was safe if they were blue,’ Peter folded his hands around hers and just held them. Jenna watched him remember fondly, a soft smile on his lips.

‘Did they ever go a sort of green? Greeny-blue? Like the sea?’ she asked.

‘Yes! They did,’ Peter replied, looking at her strangely, ‘When she was with my dad, when he’d done something romantic for her or special. They were both old school romantics, very sweet.’ He hesitated, querying her with his still-green eyes, ‘How did you know that?’

‘I…’ she blushed, ‘Just as guess really…’ she said.


	2. The Answer My Friend

He laughed at her when he opened the door. She saw it burst out of him as though he was attempting to be polite but then just couldn’t contain himself.

‘Dear God what happened to you?’ he asked, chortling away merrily. Jenna glared at him and stamped over the threshold in Peter’s hallway.

‘It’s _windy_ ,’ she said.

‘You don’t say,’ he swung the door to and watched her as she unbuttoned her coat stroppily. He was so entertained she decided to ham it up for a bit longer and scowled into the hall mirror as he hung her jacket.

‘Look at the state of me!’ she exclaimed.

‘It’s hard not to,’ Peter smirked. Jenna touched her hair which upon leaving the house had been smooth and perfectly coiffed. ‘Are you er… prone to frizz?’ He asked.

She flicked her eyes to his reflection behind her and replied, ‘No,’ firmly, before attempting to flatten some of the tumbleweed on her head. It wasn’t even damp out there, she had no idea why today of all days it had chosen to go all kinky.

‘Is that a twig?’ Peter asked nonchalantly.

Her irritated demeanour wobbled and she snorted. ‘Better not be, God why didn’t I bring a brush. Every day I have a brush. I decide to nip over to yours and it’s the one time I don’t take one.’ She rummaged in her bag increasingly desperately. ‘I am not going to look like this when Steven arrives,’ she said, ‘What time’s he coming?’

‘You’ve an hour yet, we’ll sort you out before he gets here,’ Peter said.

‘How!?’ she turned to Peter exasperated.

‘Come with me,’ he said mysteriously as though inviting her on a marvellous adventure. He started climbing the stairs while she hesitated at the bottom. ‘Well come on,’ he laughed.

‘Are you taking me upstairs to molest me?’ she asked.

Peter laughed, ‘No, I’m just fixing your hair… why, do you _want_ to be molested?’

Jenna blushed but luckily he had already reached the top and gone around the corner. She and Peter had grown extraordinarily close in just a few months and she had to admit he was an attractive man as well as a golden individual. She had a sudden image of him taking her into one of the bedrooms.

‘Jenna!’

‘On my way!’ she trotted up the stairs and found him in the master bedroom where he beckoned her towards a beautiful dressing table.

‘Sit,’ he instructed, so she sat, and looked into the mirror at another world where it was her room and he was her…

‘Oww!’ she whined.

Peter ran a comb through her hair and it tugged.

‘Twigs,’ he said, ‘Whole birds nest probably.’

Jenna shook her head, ‘Well be careful,’ she warned.

‘I will.’

She settled onto the stool and watched him work. Long fingers gently unravelling ‘tugs’ created by the wild gusts outside. She smirked as he removed a piece of last year’s fallen leaves and waved it at her in the mirror and then held her breath as he leaned over her to put it on the table. His front pressed against her back warmly and she felt his breath skim her cheek as he withdrew to continue his work.

Slowly, slowly, holding her hair at the roots so it would hurt, he untangled the mess. When he was finally able to run the comb through he swapped it for a brush and then reached for a tube of something like gel.

‘Er.. what’s that?’ Jenna asked suspiciously. Peter huffed behind her and put one hand on his hip like a frustrated hair stylist.

‘Product,’ he said and she laughed. He dropped his stance and grinned, ‘Its anti frizz I’m trying to tame your hair.’

‘Why have you got…?’ she realised before she had to finish the question. ‘yeah I can see why you need it,’ she said eying his own fluffy hair.’

‘The difference being I need a whole tube at a time,’ Peter said. He squeezed a tiny amount into his hands and rubbed them together before pushing them through Jenna’s hair. She shut her eyes at the sensation.

‘Oh…’ she murmured before she could stop it. Peter responded by pressing firmly and sensually as he drew his fingers through her hair, across her scalp and down through the lengths, de frizzing but mainly massaging. He brought his palms to her temples and let his fingertips drag backwards, pressing pressure points he had to have properly learned somewhere. It felt amazing and all the stress from the walk over in the gale outside, from the impending ‘should I stay for series nine?’ conversation, just melted from her.

She opened her eyes and looked at him in the mirror, completely focused on what he was doing, and managed to watch him like that for a few minutes before he glanced up. He held her eye and smiled and she felt that frisson that ran through her increasingly often these days whenever they were alone. Once again her heart seemed to skip.

‘Do you want me to do your shoulders?’ Peter asked, ‘Make a job of it?’

Jenna unbuttoned the top few fastenings of her shirt and dragged it down over her shoulders while holding his eye contact in the glass. After a second he looked away, down to where she sat before him and ran his warm palms down over her neck, onto her shoulders. He hooked his fingers under her bra straps and moved them away, rubbing where they had left the faintest of red marks.

And then he bent to kiss them better.

Open mouthed, hot kisses, warm breath, firm hands. He looked up at her reflection where she sat paralysed with need.

Don’t let him stop.

‘Ok?’ he mouthed and she nodded, seeing his grey curls dip again and feeling his lips on her neck. Jenna closed her eyes again and just _felt._ The sensation, and the emotion at once. She wound her hand up into Peter’s hair and held him in place, heart thumping, body tingling. She had no idea where it would end up, but she wanted this. She felt the slightest sense of guilt, but she chose to ignore it. How far would he go? She thought she would follow.

The doorbell chimed and she opened her eyes to see Peter shut his and straighten reluctantly.

‘Sorry,’ he said. She wasn't sure what for.

Jenna looked in the mirror as he left and quickly grabbed the brush he had abandoned. Her hair was still a mess.

 

 


	3. Thunderstorms and Lightning

Summer was not supposed to be this painful. Jenna popped another pair of ibuprofen out of their packet and slugged them down with water. She had moved her set chair into what she had hoped would be a cooler spot but in reality the humidity and heat followed her everywhere. The sun had been at full strength all week making depressing graveyard shots a little difficult to do, but now the weather was turning and a storm was brewing and oh boy could she feel it.

She pushed her sunglasses securely up her nose and shut her eyes, praying the pain would start to ease before she was needed for another take. Her head just throbbed, a one sided knife like throb through her temple and into her eye. She felt a bit sick. Great that was all she needed.

Soft steps approaching. Don’t let it be a runner, she couldn’t move let alone act right now if they called her. If she just had half an hour she might be OK, she didn’t want to hold everyone up, the schedule was tight enough. Cautiously she opened her eyes to find Peter standing close by, looking concerned over his Ray Bans. He was such a rockstar these days.

‘How’s the…?’ he gestured to his own head and spoke quietly.

‘Not good,’ she managed, every word an effort. ‘Wish the thunder would just come and be done with.’

Peter looked at the sky, ‘Yeah it does feel a bit heavy.’

‘What’s going on over there?’ Jenna looked towards where they were due to film.

‘Oh you know,’ he took his place in his chair to her right, her right hand man, always, ‘Technical stuff,’ he said vaguely.

Jenna scowled, ‘Technical stuff? Like what?’

He shrugged, ‘Just stuff… that’s technical… might take a while.’ He looked off into the distance while Jenna flailed painfully next to him.

‘You’ve told them haven’t you, mentioned the migraine and got them to give me a break?’

‘Well you need a break!’ he said.

‘I…’ Jenna grasped her temple painfully, digging her thumb into her skull to try and relieve the agony that flared when she was outraged. ‘I don’t want to hold up the shoot!’ she protested.

‘Hey… hey…’ he reached for her free hand, ‘Calm down, nobody’s annoyed, they can see you’ve been struggling on all day. Jenna… oh Jenna…’

‘I’m letting people down!’ she sniffed. From nowhere she was in tears. All the pain and the time she’d spent trying to ignore it and function anyway had caught up with her and now she was sobbing into her hands. Peter immediately moved to kneel in front of her and put his arms around her.

‘Sorry,’ she said from somewhere against his costume. She tried to wriggle back in case she left snot on his coat. ‘I’ve had it all night as well, hardly slept, I’m so tired and it’s so stubborn, why won’t it just shift?’

‘It will when rain comes, always does with you, weather related pain.’ God he knew her so well.

Jenna pulled back and hunkered over in her chair miserably. Her head hurt even worse now she’d been crying and the nausea was coming in waves.

‘Right why don’t we get you somewhere more comfortable,’ Peter suggested. She looked at him blankly. Moving was effort, effort increased pain. ‘Come on, somewhere dark, somewhere cooler,’ he held out his hand and at last she took it and he helped pulled her up. Jenna staggered catching herself and Peter off guard. Thankfully she stumbled into his body rather than over the back of her chair.

‘Woah… woah…’ he caught her.

‘Bit dizzy.’

‘So I see,’ he slipped an arm around her shoulder to steady her and began to walk her the short distance to the trailers. Jenna could hear her breathing getting heavier and the sick feeling getting worse as they moved. By the time they got to the door of her home from home she could feel sweat running down her back. Peter opened the door and propelled her inside where she swayed across to the couch and collapsed onto it.

This was the worst in a long time, it had to be said, and it was probably at least in part down to exhaustion. They were coming up to the end of the shoot, filming the finale, and making plans for the world tour which would start in a few weeks. She was excited, so many cool places to go and she got to go there with Peter. Her stomach did flips when she thought of it, all that time with him. He knew his family would be there but….

A wave of nausea and she tried to steady her breathing, in, out, in, out no sudden moves. His family, that twinge of guilt that always struck when she thought of them, but she just couldn’t help it. Two weeks on tour with Peter, two weeks of meeting fans, two weeks of snatched kisses in lifts and the feel of his warm hands under her clothes.

Two weeks trying to stop themselves going further than a teenage make out session. Two weeks of hiding it from his wife.

The nausea struck hard along with a pulse of pain and she sat up quickly in distress, hand over her mouth. Peter, fetching a glass of something cool from her fridge seemed to have developed reflexes like lighting, and grabbed the washing up bowl from her sink. He appeared next to her and placed it on her lap moments before what little she had managed to eat that day came back violently.

She was coughing the last of it when she realised he was holding her hair with one hand and rubbing her back with the other. She groaned in embarrassment.

‘I can’t believe I just puked in front of you,’ she moaned. ‘I’m so sorry.’

He laughed in genuine good humour, ‘I’m immune to puke, seen a lot of it in my time, done a lot of it in my youth. Plus I’m a dad, once you’re dad, puke is for wimps.’

There it was, the family thing, but she laughed anyway at her circumstances, leaning over a bowl while her co-star fetched a glass of water and some tissues. Being an actress was so glamourous. They sat for a minute letting the sweat cool on her brow.

‘There,’ he said after a bit, ‘You’re not the colour of the wall now.’

She smiled. ‘Pain’s a bit less,’ she hiccoughed. ‘I feel a bit wiped though.’

‘Not surprising, lie down, get a bit of rest.’

She stopped protesting and lay back. Just a few minutes, she’d do that. Jenna laid a hand over her brow and closed her eyes. She heard a rustle from the kitchen and then he was there again, his fingers gently lifting her hand away and replacing it with an ice pack. The cold was bliss. He was so good, so thoughtful, so kind. That was always the first thing people noticed, his kindness.

‘Thank you, that’s amazing,’ she said and opened her eyes briefly. He was leaning over her, less concern now more something like adoration. His eyes were that blue-green she sometimes saw, bright even in the shadow of her trailer. He kissed her knuckles. She felt herself love him. It happened more often these days.

‘Sleep,’ he instructed, ‘Just for a little while. I’m here if they call or if you need anything.’

Jenna let herself fall, safe and sound.

The thunderclap woke her suddenly and she sat up with a squeal to find Peter standing by the open door, a faintly cooler breeze present at last and the rain hammering down outside. He turned to her, amused.

‘OK?’ he asked.

‘Yeah… yeah…’ she laughed, ‘just a bit of a rude awakening.’ She heaved herself up and joined him and the door. Peter slipped an arm around her.

‘Feeling better?’ he asked.

‘Yeah just a bit floaty, pain’s gone now it’s raining.’

‘There was me thinking it was my nursing skills,’ he said offended.

‘Sorry….Thank you nurse Peter,’ he smirked at her as she complimented him.

They fell silent and she reached for his hand. Jenna watched the puddles form outside and peered up into the dark sky. The storm was going nowhere for a while, no filming while that was on, but it had shifted sufficiently to lift the pressure from her head. She glanced at Peter who was watching her face carefully, asking a question of her silently. They never talked about it, never had to, it was like they read each other’s minds. She wet her lips and he followed her tongue with his eyes.

Jenna felt his hand push up under her sweater as he pulled her closer, and she let herself go there. The door swung shut, the rain battering on it, and through the tiny windows the skies flashed with lighting. Jenna was there, safe inside, listening to the thunder peel, Peter’s palms on her, and then his lips. Her heartrate doubled, the nausea she had felt now transformed to pure excitement. No one was coming to disturb them as long as the storm rained down outside. Another snatched moment was theirs.


	4. Prickly Heat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angst. Sex. You can't have one without the other in my world.

It was becoming a routine now. Fly in, Peter sitting next to her chatting, and his wife Elaine on the other side of him, her head in a book. Land and team up with Peter to make her way through the airport, saying hi to fans, signing a few autographs and taking selfies. Get to the hotel and split again while they dumped their stuff in their rooms and got changed from their travels. And then…

Jenna heard the familiar tap at her door that meant that Peter was here and the latest location on the World Tour had really begun. It was nonstop and they’d just hopped from Mexico to Rio after a crazed ten days ranging from Wales to New York to South Korea. Her bags were heaving with gifts and novelties; she was running out of clean outfits and would have to ask the hotel to clean them, and she was knackered. So knackered and so excitable at the same time.

‘Hang on!’

God it was hot. Was the stupid aircon in here not working? She’d not showered yet and she could feel the sweat on her back, on her forehead from the minimal effort of unpacking. She’d wanted to be properly ready for him, not sticky from the trip.

The door tapped again.

‘Coming!’ she stumbled over her bags and landed on the door, wrestling with it for a second before finally hauling it open. Peter stood there looking amused at her lack of proficiency with doorhandles, eyebrows raised and arms folded.

‘You alright there?’ he asked.

Jenna grinned, ‘Yeah, yeah,’ she waved him in and shut the door. ‘Just a bit clammy, think the aircon is down, sorry if I smell a bit.’ He laughed, gestured to his own perfect presentation. He’d cleaned up, had a shower, fixed his wayward hair, put on a flatteringly fitted shirt. She ran her eyes down his chest.

‘Nice,’ she said.

‘Will you stop doing that!’ he protested only half seriously, ‘You’re going to get us into trouble looking all lasciviously at me.’

She snorted with laughter, ‘I can’t help it if you’re all… Ooo new aftershave?’

‘Yes,’

She leaned closer, put her hands on him and inhaled. It was a light, fresh scent and she stepped even nearer to catch it before tilting her head up and looking straight into his eyes. ‘Sexy,’ she said.

‘Not fair,’ he said gruffly.

She pressed her hips into him, pushed her breasts against his torso. Peter groaned. ‘We’re getting so bad for this,’ he muttered, his hands reaching around her and holding her in place. Jenna wriggled and watched him shut his eyes, felt him twitch through the fabric of his trousers. ‘Can’t keep my hands off you this week.’

‘Just a few minutes?’ she asked nicely, ‘You know how I get sitting there on the plane, so close to you.’

At last he looked down at her, pulled an incredulous face, ‘Just a few minutes,’ he said and kissed her, mouth open, pressure, tongue; desperation.

Jenna felt a jolt of arousal at that second. The gaps between kisses were out of their control, they were so busy, so often under surveillance, but they were getting better at grabbing moments alone between commitments. Like these post landing meet ups to ‘go over schedules’ and such like.

Yeah they were going over their schedule. Getting organised. Jenna clung to his neck. Peter was practically carrying her to the bed now, pushing her down. She broke the kiss and giggled.

‘Careful! Watch the dress!’

‘You’re sticky… need a shower…. Let me help you with that,’ he was running his hands under her hem, lifting.

‘Won’t have time at this rate.. hey… don’t crease it, I have to look presentable.’

‘Don’t… care…’ he mumbled at her throat, his breathing heavy already and his hands roaming. He cupped her breast and drew his tongue up to her ear, the sensitive lobe, sucking and licking until she gasped. She felt a flood of heat between her legs, wriggled under him until she could part them, feeling him press his thigh against her. Oh sod it, sod the dress. She felt him lift it further.

Thank God they’d moved on just a little from the long sessions of teenage kisses they had shared while filming. The exotic locations, their positions as glamourous TV couple, all the screaming fans and special treatment had somehow added to their excitement when alone, given them a push towards what they were doing now. There was still a line drawn that couldn’t be crossed, but it was further away.

‘Wanted you all day,’ he was saying and she felt her heart leap at the confession. ‘All the way through the flight, lift,’ he ordered and the whole dress came off. She lay in her underwear, sweat on every part of her body, a slight warm breeze from the window attempting to cool her but the humidity leaving her sticky. Peter swept his tongue down over her belly and she moaned.

‘Oh god,’ he said quietly, laying across her, kissing her with open mouthed swirling tongued kisses down towards her knickers. Jenna’s eyes widened. This was new. He kissed her, he used his hands the last few times but this? This he’d thought of as too far. They were moving on, towards… something.

The heat was getting to him too and she felt him strip off his suit jacket. She looked down and saw the sweat forming on his brow, saw him wipe it with his sleeve and then start unbuttoning his shirt.

‘Two secs,’ he said, ‘Melting,’ Jenna smiled as the shirt came away, at his confidence which had been soaring all week. Steven thought it was the fans, the crowds, the stardom. Maybe, maybe partly. She liked to think it was partly this. He told her she made him feel desired, wanted, he worshiped her for that.

‘Ditch the trousers,’ Jenna instructed, queen of the bed.

‘Yes, ma’am’ he stood and kicked off his shoes, quickly undid his belt and let his trousers drop before rejoining her.

Skin on skin. Hot, damp skin, pressing against each other, sticking and unsticking. Noises, sensation, wet kisses, bodies adhering, grinding in the heat of the room. There wasn’t much time, they were due to be taken for a talk, and she’d have to shower, they both would after this. She tried to be practical, tried to keep it in mind but need was winning over practical. Desire was making itself known. They used to be able to stop; she used to be able to pull back, adjust her skirt and go. But she was in a mess of arousal; she heard herself groan, felt Peter at her neck, grabbed his hand and pushed it lower.

His smile, wicked above her, sweat on his temples, his tongue wetting his lips and hot breath washing over her. Hot breath, hot skin; he slipped down her body. His second progress down her stomach and her nerves were on fire, he was torturing her. Do it _, do it_. Please. Fingers under lace, pulling away, the feel of his freshly shaven cheek against her inner thigh, his hair brushing her, hands, fingers.

‘Oh! Oh…’ Jenna arched then shut her eyes tight. Right where she wanted him to be. Tongue moving slowly. She clamped her hands in his hair, on the sheets, anywhere to cling on and steady herself. Pressure, smooth circles, sweat on her legs, under her, so good. She was moaning again, urging him to go faster, give more, she wasn’t going to last. All those kisses, all that tension mounting up to this. He sensed it, the rapid build, the way she held herself, the tiny gasps, scared to move in case he lost his rhythm; desperate to push herself over the edge. Suddenly he reduced the pressure, lapped faster then sucked hard.

Crashing pleasure, hard contraction and she was yelling out his name. He rode it out for her, let her settled and climbed slowly up her body, drinking the sweat from her stomach and breasts, trailing heat to her waiting mouth.

Peter was kissing her, holding her gently. She could feel him sticking sweatily to her side, turned her head and kissed the salt, the taste of him. He shuddered and pushed himself to her hip. Jenna ran her hand down his belly, craned her neck to catch his eye and ask permission.

‘We’ll be late,’ he said.

‘I’ll be quick.’ She saw him hesitate, pupils wide, sweat on his face, his upper lip, a bead which ran down his neck. She felt him twitch again, hard, so hard; looked down at the damp material of his boxers and turned towards him. She licked her lips, pushed herself to her knees in preparation. She’d repay him, oh how she’d wanted to all week, but that line, that line couldn’t be crossed until he’d crossed it today. She slid backwards a few inches.

He grabbed her wrist, looked at her shyly, struggled with his words.

‘Just…just your hand,’ he said quietly.

She hesitated, watching his face, glancing down his body, ‘You.. you’re sure…?’

There was that line. Moved just a little, not far enough. He nodded, avoiding her eyes and she crawled back up his body to lie with him, to kiss his lips once. He was tense, guilty and her heart sank a little, she knew what would happen now as she pulled back. She’d seen it before. This week, in unfamiliar far flung countries; in hot hotel rooms filled with sweat and sex and her aching heart.

He’d bury his head against her shoulder while she worked him. He’d come quickly, silently and then hide his face a minute longer; all wet eyes and regret. His wife just down the corridor and his guilt lying with him, with Jenna, there between them in the bed.

 

 


	5. High Altitude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I promise super fluffy but I've postponed it to allow another Rio Based Chapter. I meant to do this as Ch4 but they didn't manage to get out the bedroom in time.

‘How come he gets to take the escalator?’ she heard Peter moan about twenty steps up. To their left she caught sight of a Cyberman, in full costume, sailing past them. It waved cheerily in her direction. Jenna looked pointedly at her companion as they continued their climb.

‘Do I really need to say?’ she said.

He snorted.

‘It’s thirty degrees and he’s dressed in tin foil,’ she expanded.

‘They could have dressed him at the top,’ Peter said, trudging on.

‘Yeah, I’m sure it’s really appropriate for the cyberman to be stripping half naked and getting into his costume in front of Christ the Redeemer!’

‘No… well… maybe not but my point is if he merits the escalator then so do we. We’re the stars, What if we keel over from exertion? Heatstroke? It’s a PR disaster,’ he was joking she was sure of it but Jenna could see the sweat breaking out over his face, ‘Anyway I’m an old man remember!’ he quipped.

‘No you aren’t, you’re fine, we’re making good progress,’ Jenna looked up and ahead of her. ‘I should have counted,’ she said, ‘How far have we come?’

‘Oh I dunno,’ he said a little breathlessly, ‘Maybe eighty, eighty isn’t much, not even half, this is ridiculous, I’m… knackered already.’

‘It’s the heat,’ Jenna remarked.

‘No… it’s me… Christ….’ She watched his face flushed and decided he looked really quiet unwell.

‘You ok?’ she asked. ‘We can stop for a minute, you don’t have to be all macho about it, lost of people are stopping…’

Peter came to an immediate halt and leaned against the wall of the steps. ‘Macho? Me? Never… happens…phew.’ He wiped his forehead and panted. Jenna could hear how rough his breathing was. She had a sudden flashback of him panting at her neck the day before and felt her skin tingle at the memory.

‘It’s the heat,’ she reassured, ‘I mean I’m not wheezing away yet but I can feel my heart rate’s gone up, it’s pretty gruelling. Do you want some?’ she asked offering her drink.

‘Thanks but I really do just feel old,’ he said, managing the whole sentence a little easier. He took the proffered water bottle and had a slug while looking out over the view. ‘When did I get so unfit? I do loads of running about making the show. I never stop.’

‘Different kind of fit I guess,’ Jenna folded her arms and waited with him, secretly quite pleased of the break herself. She could feel sweat pooling under her arms and on her back and she didn’t want to spoil her outfit. ‘Maybe you need to hit the gym more?’

He scowled at her but she figured he was too puffed to jibe back.

It was beautiful, Rio, so much to look at especially from their vantage point now. A bay that looked like paradise, lush vegetation, the beach, all the colours of the city. But it was also two hundred and twenty steps to climb to the statue, and then a photoshoot at the top and some kind of advert to make with a drone camera. It was baking hot and really the kind of weather where you either stayed indoors or wore a bikini on a beach and did nothing. Not a dress, not a dress and a hike up a mountain; but at least her dress was shortish, and white and she had teamed it with ballerinas. Peter had a suit on. He had to be sweltering.

‘Give me your jacket,’ she said suddenly holding out her hands.

‘I’ll be fine in a minute.’

‘Come on hand it over, let yourself cool off a little.’

Peter looked at her doubtfully, ‘You know I have a white T-shirt on under here and it’s probably drenched,’ he said, peeling it off with Jenna’s help.

She giggled, ‘Wet T-Shirt moment huh? You worried I’ll be overcome with lust again? That I won’t be able to help myself? Don’t fret, I’ll cope with the sight of your sexy torso all wet and sticky and…’ she quickly fell silent and Peter, who was chortling away to himself looked at her in sudden concern.

‘Wha..?’ he started and she curtly shook her head in warning and looked purposefully behind him. Peter turned around to catch the sight of his wife gliding up the escalator, quite obviously having caught Jenna’s words. She carried on up, turning slightly to look down at them coolly, no hello or acknowledgement, a look in her eyes that said everything she needed to.

‘Shit,’ Jenna said.

‘Crap,’ he echoed, releasing the jacket entirely into her hands. ‘It’s fine,’ he added rapidly, ‘I’ll explain, say it was all just mucking about, nothing to what you were saying. I’ll smooth it over.’

‘Maybe but… We have to be more careful,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what’s got into me, I can usually keep my mouth shut. That was careless.’

‘Mmm,’ Peter took another slug of water, he looked up the escalator with a slightly mournful expression. ‘Careless… one way of describing it… we were just…’ he shrugged without finishing.

Jenna took a breath and tried to focus him.

‘Peter, I don’t want to cause drama…. _Peter_?’ he turned back to look at her, ‘But don’t you think it’s time we spoke about….you know… _This_?’ she gestured between them. He looked sadly down at his feet and fidgeted with his hands a little. Then she saw the faintest of nods before he changed the subject entirely once again.

‘Later. Sometime. Come on,’ he said, ‘Let’s keep climbing, no more slacking off…’ he started ahead of her, up the steps again, the back of his t-shirt clinging to him and the hair at the nape of his neck even darker than usual with sweat. She watched for a few seconds, conflicted as usual. What was it about him that made her readily chuck her morals on the fire? Why couldn’t she stop? His wife had just seen them flirting, hurt all over her face and still Jenna wanted to carry on. This was exactly the type of thing she had always promised herself she would never do, never stoop to. Elaine didn’t deserve this and if Peter wouldn’t stop things the she, Jenna, ought to be the bigger person.

But she couldn’t, not so far, in fact after yesterday she wanted more and _he_ had stopped _her_ from going further; but she knew eventually he would give way, she counted on it and it thrilled her. A devil on her shoulder was urging her on, like a challenge in a competition, she’d get him, love him, do the things to him she dreamed of.

Jenna shook her head in semi revulsion. What was she even thinking? Focusing on the statue above for inspiration and perhaps spiritual intervention, she climbed the steps again and caught Peter up. Just do the job, make the promo and speak to him about things later. Some kind of decision had to be made, for everyone’s sakes. She didn’t want anyone hurting, not least him.

‘We must be over a hundred now, at least half way,’ she said lightly as they went on up.

‘Must be, I’m losing my breath again. I refuse to admit it’s my fitness levels,’ Peter said.

‘Absolutely not,’ Jenna agreed seriously.

‘It’s the altitude… high altitude, not enough oxygen….’ he wheezed holding his side as though he had developed a stitch.

She smiled and patted him on the back, ‘Sure it is…. I’m fine by the way, not breathless at all.’

‘Shut up, you with your… youth and your superior lung function. I wish I’d never smoked now.’

They were almost there and Jenna grinned. ‘Just look at it, it’s incredible isn’t it?’ The statue loomed over them, massively impressive and inspiring. Neither of them were particularly religious but there was a quite genuine sense of awe generated by it and its surroundings. They climbed and climbed until at last they found themselves at the top, looking out at the sea, grateful for a slight breeze.

Around them their team began to set up to take photos, make a trailer for the tour. Clusters of people stood about on the steps or wandered to the base of the statue to inspect closer. Jenna was aware of Peter’s family lingering a dozen steps down, his daughter was relaxed, speaking to someone on the crew but his wife, his wife was slightly apart from them, face set. Jenna knew what that face meant, what that expression translated into with women and she at once felt guilt and pain for Elaine, mixed with defiance on her own behalf. She loved Peter, she loved him, but so did the other woman.

Jenna looked away from the group on the steps below them and took her position next to Peter for their photos, just the two of them in shot, you’d never know how many people were crowded around the edges.

‘It’s beautiful here,’ Peter said quietly to her and she felt one of his fingers curl around hers briefly. ‘I don’t want to come down.’


	6. Mince Pies and Designer Snowflakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Its Christmas in September and its make or break time

‘Here, have a pie,’ he said, shoving the mince pie under Jenna’s nose. She laughed, plucked it from his fingers and watched him lick the sugar from his fingertips one by one, his blue eyes carefully watching the activity on set, the lights bright and highlighting his features beautifully. He had fake snowflakes in his hair and sprinkled over his shoulders and costume carefully. Designer snowflakes for the discerning time lord.

‘Are you trying to make me fat?’ she smiled.

‘No,’ he looked sideways at her, last sugary finger poised at his lips, ‘No!’ he repeated energetically.

‘You are! You’re trying to fatten me up. Not that it matters, won’t be seen in this dressing gown, it covers everything. A whole Christmas ep and I don’t get to look even remotely sexy.’

‘It’s very fetching,’ Peter smirked and she gave him a glare. ‘Anyway its not about looking sexy!’ he dropped his voice slightly, ‘Plenty of time for that later, when the dressing gown is off.’

Jenna corpsed and smacked him on the arm with her pie free hand. It was really just terribly weird to have Peter flirting with her between takes but things had taken a step up since getting back from Rio. They had a short amount of time left together and it made things intense. Jenna had agreed to do the Christmas special but she was still of the mind that things should end there, that her character should be written out and the show move on.

Peter was not having it. He was not only upset but also refusing to listen to the idea she wouldn’t be in the next series. This in turn made Steven concerned about all the uncertainty and the pair of them had been at her since Rio to reconsider. She knew Peter had something up his sleeve that he had planned with Steven to try and persuade her, she just wasn’t sure of when they would ambush her and with what. In the meantime he was plain wooing her; making her feel like she couldn’t live without him, making her want him, and if she wanted him she’d have to stay because otherwise there was no practical, non-suspicion arousing way of seeing a married actor based in Wales while she would be in London.

Jenna was lost in thought and dimly aware that she was following Peter’s every move with her eyes as he read through his script. He looked up and winked at her and her heart skipped a beat. She wondered how on earth he could continue to fancy her dressed the way she was. A whole episode to be filmed wearing a horrible nightie and a blue robe. Action scenes, dream sequences, even the romantic bits. Oh but wait, just to add to the complexity, they weren’t romantic bits according to Peter. Even the proposed bit where the two of them eloped in the TARDIS. Not romantic at all. So while they were themselves the tension was incredible but on screen he was insisting they were platonic.

Jenna bit into her mince pie and chewed with an overly full mouth. She’d seen a few of the takes, it looked anything but platonic. She grinned through the pie.

‘Jenna!’ he looked at her with mock disgust, ‘Can’t you eat more quietly? You know, more delicately as befits your delicate little person?’

‘Why does it make me unladylike? Taking a huge mouthful?’ she smirked.

‘Yes, frankly! Very!’ he was trying not to laugh with her and it made his eyes sparkle even more.

‘Shouldn’t matter, no romance here, uh-uh, not a drop, not romantic, not one bit.’

Peter sighed, ‘Shut up and eat your pie.’

‘Take more than a pie to fill me up,’ she said around the mincemeat. Peter shut his eyes and choked on his laughter.

‘Later,’ he said.

She swallowed, stuck her tongue out. She was in a thoroughly fun mood. Christmas specials were great. Mince pies in September were tasty. Christmas trees and decorations and gifts everywhere brought her a quite genuine joy even if it was a few months early. There was snow, buckets of it, blowing about, piling up in corners. Santa Claus was there for goodness sake, it couldn’t get much better. She shoved the rest of the pie in her mouth and swung her arms back and forth, full of nervous energy.

That was another story. Energy to burn. Energy that didn’t go away with a jog or a long day. She looked over at Peter again, his costume was different, more relaxed, tighter in the trouser department by a margin and lots of layers. So many layers that begged to be stripped off. He’d just turned up one day in his own clothes. The jumper, with the holes, he’d worn it at read through and around his apartment, now suddenly it was a core wardrobe piece. Jenna liked it when he wore it without a t-shirt beneath it; when she could poke her fingers through to bare skin. Little naughty tempting holes; from a distance his pale skin looked like more of those snowflakes.

She saw him look up suddenly, right at her. ‘Jenna, stop it.’

‘What?’

‘You look like you want to eat me alive,’ he hissed.

‘That’s because I do,’ she hissed back. She stepped closer so they could speak in quieter tones, ‘I’m dying here, you know that I…’ she huffed in frustration. ‘Why can’t we talk about this? Why can’t we approach this like adults?’

Peter sighed and tipped his head back to stare at the ceiling. ‘It’s complex,’ he said.

‘I know that!’ she whispered forcefully, then, calmer, ‘I know that. That’s why we need to work something out. What are we doing, where are we going? We’re making out with each other like teenagers and then we stop, we have a week off, we try to behave, say we will never go there again…. And it all goes wrong and we’re back in bed, except we’re trying so hard not to go all the way and I can’t cope with it much longer. I’m going to explode!’

She stopped her rant and really looked at him, squirming next to her and red in the cheeks with embarrassment.

‘I would really rather you didn’t do this when we’re about to film a scene,’ he almost snapped. Peter didn’t really ever snap, he just sometimes spoke more curtly. Jenna sagged and deflated, folded her arms again and stood to one side. She could feel him looking at her but she refused to respond. The whole situation made her intermittently mad and she knew that that was, at least in part, because he wouldn’t give in. They hadn’t had sex. It shouldn’t matter, it was his choice, his side of things was way more complicated than hers, but it was driving her crazy, her head full of images of him fucking her into the mattress or over a long table.

She realised she was staring hungrily at the table on set, heaving with Christmas food. ‘If only,’ she muttered.

‘What?’

‘Nothing,’ she waved in the direction of the Christmas meal, ‘just a craving.’

They were just a day a few days off finishing and the script still hadn’t been finalised. The last scenes could go one way or another, depending on what Jenna decided, if she decided, she just couldn’t tell what to do. As much as she adored being on the show, as much as she loved Peter, being with him, working with him, she was aware that it also hurt. It _really_ hurt. This quasi relationship with all the lines drawn she shouldn’t cross; it was stressful, she couldn’t keep going like that and if that was all that was on offer, well maybe she would have to be the grown up and end things before it destroyed her heart and Peter’s marriage for nothing.

She didn’t think she could handle another full year of filming, of living in his pocket, if things didn’t progress between them, if they weren’t more together. Having an on off relationship with Richard was one thing, it just didn’t work with someone like Peter.

Maybe tonight he’d talk to her, she thought miserable as she knocked on his apartment door responding to his invite for dinner. He’d buzzed her up wordlessly and it had concerned her; maybe something serious was afoot. He opened the door. He had the holey jumper on, no t-shirt she noted, tight black jeans, and a pair of antlers with tinsel.

Jenna erupted laughing. ‘What the hell?’

Peter’s terribly serious expression cracked and he smiled the wide free smile he used when he was truly in good company and happy. It was contagious.

‘It’s seasonal,’ he said, ‘Come in…’

‘Peter it’s not actually really Chris….’ Jenna stopped dead in his living area and gawped before covering her mouth and staring wide eyed and gobsmacked at him.

‘It’s really Christmas,’ Peter said, ‘Ah, don’t argue, I’m a time traveller aren’t I?’

‘W..why?’ she laughed.

Peter looked confused, ‘The other day, you said…’

‘I said what?’

He frowned, ‘You said you had a craving, you were looking at all the Christmas food and things and…’

Jenna looked horrified and shocked, ‘Oh, no! No! That’s not what I meant at all.’

‘It isn’t?’ he asked looking deflated. Suddenly all the decorations and effort looked as though it had gone to waste and it showed in every feature on his face. He was so disappointed. It was like telling a child Christmas was postponed.

‘No, I….’ she started feeling bad.

‘So you don’t want Christmas dinner?’

Jenna bit her lip and looked at him affectionately. He sagged.

‘Oh,’ he said and put his hands in his pockets. After a moment he reached up and removed his antlers before wandering to the table and dumping them at his place. He looked miserable.

‘Have you been cooking all day?’ Jenna asked feeling awful.

‘Not _all_ day, just… a lot of it,’ Peter said, ‘And then there’s the decorations and the tree and…’ he waved at the aforementioned tree and she spotted the gifts around the bottom.

‘Oh my God you didn’t! Peter you prat!’

He looked at her and shrugged, ‘Can’t have turkey without presents,’ he said simply.

Jenna was overwhelmed with a sense of guilt and stepped towards him to take him by both wrists and drag his hands out his pockets. She slipped her fingers through his.

‘It looks lovely,’ she said deciding to get into the swing of it, ‘Why not? Let’s have Christmas, we’ve been doing it all fortnight anyway.’

Peter sighed, ‘I feel like an idiot now.’

‘You’re often an idiot,’ she remarked. He laughed softly.

He bent and kissed her gently, then took her coat. Ever the gentleman he even pulled out her chair and poured her wine. She always felt just so incredibly special around him, something she knew other people did too, but here, in a one to one pretend Christmas she felt particularly dear to him. Jenna relaxed into the evening, kicked off her heels, and ate turkey until she felt ill. When they were done there was pudding and when they were done with that, she was grateful to move to the couch where he had tee’d up _It’s a Wonderful Life_ in the background. It was so clichéd it was brilliant.

‘I can’t move,’ she said with a slight groan.

‘Me neither,’ he agreed. Jenna cuddled in and he moaned. She prodded his snow-white stomach through one of the holes in the jumper. ‘Oh God please don’t I’ll be sick,’ he said pitifully. She watched him shut his eyes against a wave of nausea and fatigue, before kissing his belly. He smiled.

‘Wait,’ he said slowly before his eyes popped open, ‘Presents, you need presents, stay there!’ He sprang from the seat. Jenna had no idea how he could do that after the meal they had just consumed or indeed after a week of exhausting filming. He returned a moment later with some parcels.

‘You really didn’t need to do this, like really it’s not even Christmas.’

Peter stopped laying out the gifts on the couch between them. ‘Closest we’ll get together,’ he said, ‘we might be able to sneak birthdays and other occasions but families expect us there for Christmas with our legitimate partners, not with one another.’

Jenna’s stomach flipped and her eyes widened. ‘What are you saying? Wait are we _talking_ about this now? Are we _discussing_ it? Are you wanting to make this something _more_ , something official?’

He looked up coyly, ‘Merry Christmas,’ he said with a touch of sarcasm.

Jenna didn’t know what to say for a moment.

‘It’s what you wanted right?’ he checked.

‘Y…yes of course I just didn’t expect it now.’

‘It has to be now.’

‘Why?’

‘Because you’re leaving, the show, me…. Probably…’ Peter looked crestfallen. ‘I got you some souvenirs,’ he pushed a box towards her.

‘I…’ Jenna frowned, it was hard to concentrate on the most important talk of her life at that moment when he was offering her gifts. ‘Leave the presents ‘til later,’ she said finally, ‘I haven’t made a decision about going, I know I said I was but…but you’re right its linked to this... us…’

‘It is?’

‘Yes! How can you actually be surprised about that? You know how I feel, what I want.’

Peter put his head in his hands, drew them over his face.

‘I can’t stay if we carry on the way we are,’ Jenna said simply, ‘It’ll hurt way too much to chop and change our minds according to…’ she tried to think of a kinder way to say it but failed, ‘According to how much you think you can get away with, how guilty you feel.’

She watched him flinch. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said softly. ‘I do want you, Jenna, more than you might realise, but this is so hard.’

She reached out and took one of his hands, ‘I don’t underestimate that but you have to see it’s hard for me too and it’s been going on long enough. I have to protect myself a bit here, we either call it off, or we try and make… something of it… I’m not asking for marriage but more than third base once in a while and then hitting retreat and pretending we’re just friends, colleagues, whatever....’

He nodded. ‘And if I said let’s go for it, let’s make being here in Wales our place, our bubble…?’ he was so hesitant it took her a moment to work out why, until he flicked his eyes up and she saw something so vulnerable within him it frightened her to be responsible for it.

‘You’re scared?’ she asked.

‘Yes….’

‘But not of Elaine….’ she realised.

He swallowed. ‘I’d be a fool not to be a bit scared of her but no, that’s not the main thing I fear.’

‘Then….?’

‘I don’t want to lose you,’ he said, ‘If I mess this up, if I lose you as a friend as well as a… whatever you want to term it, whatever we are doing. I couldn’t bear it. You’ve become so much to me Jenna.’

‘You aren’t sure if you should go for it because you might lose me?’ Jenna said with a touch of disbelief.

‘Stupid isn’t it? Is it?’

‘No… yes… a bit… its frustrating more than anything. Peter… if I have to walk away from you this week I don’t think I’ll survive but I won’t survive this half existence with you either. You don’t know what you mean to me, how much I want you, above all my moral qualms and worries, it’s all I can think of. Call me a bad person for wanting it, but… Please,’ she looked in his eyes. ‘Please, baby.’

She had no idea where the word came from, the term of endearment, but it seemed to break something in him, something in his resolve, in his armour. Perhaps he finally accepted that she felt the same, perhaps he finally believed and let go of his fears.

‘God… Jenna,’ he pulled her towards him, kissed her lips.

‘Please, stop holding back,’ she whispered between kisses. ‘Just let this happen.’

He mumbled something at her ear and cleared the sofa of the gifts with one arm, moving to press her back into the cushions, when she broke the kiss urgently.

‘What is it?’ he looked panic stricken.

‘Craving!’ she explained, ‘You set this up because you thought I had a Christmas craving.’

He looked confused, ‘Um… yes….’

‘But that wasn’t the craving,’ she got up and grabbed his hand, tugged him towards the table. Jenna looked between him and the empty pudding bowls that were all that remained of Christmas dinner. Peter continued to look confused.

‘I’m not following…?’ he sounded a little exasperated.

She sighed and then with a dramatic sweep of her arms pushed all of the table decorations and crockery away to one side where it cascaded over the edge. She hopped up, shoved the chair away with one foot and looked at him.

‘Craving,’ she said simple, ‘You, me, table…. Now.’

Peter burst into amused but slightly wary laughter. ‘Jenna what are you doing? You can’t just… are those broken?’

‘I don’t care,’ she announced.

‘But….’ he stood giggling in front of her.

‘Peter!’

Something changed again in his face, ‘You want me to shag you on the table?’

‘Yes!’

‘This is how you want our first experience to be?’

‘Yes!’

‘Ok just thought I’d check, anything you want, I’m up for that,’ and Peter reached the table, watched as Jenna scooted back a little and then hauled himself up on the hard surface. He cleared a few stray bits and pieces and then positioned himself above her and she looked up into his eyes, blue green. All was well. She reached up to run her hands through his hair, opened her thighs. She was finally there, finally, finally… she shifted and flinched a little.

‘Ok?’ he asked.

‘This table…’ she confessed, ‘It’s a bit… hard.’

‘Bed?’ he offered playfully, ‘Comfier?’

‘Yeah,’ she nodded and he leapt off her looking relieved. ‘Oh thank God, my knees were agony, too old for that…’

This time he pulled _her_ through to his room, taking the lead, kissing her and backing her against the bed until she tipped over and fell into the mattress. Then he was above her again but this time snugly fitting between her legs, pushing rhythmically into her with his hips, simultaneously sharing responsibility for undoing buttons and zips. Jenna reached for the jumper with the holes, took a final fond glance at it and then removed it entirely. Peter’s skin almost glowed white in the dusk and she traced his chest gently with her fingertips, waiting for him to respond, perhaps make her stop as he had before.

But they didn’t stop, clothes removed, bodies joined, voices whispering, laughing. Jenna finally felt Peter cross the line he had stuck to all this time, that he had skirted around since the beginning; a line made up of morals and vows that he had promised never to break but which had been worn down. Daily exposure, long days, weeks away from home, the closeness of their relationship growing with each moment and the chemistry, the chemistry which had been there from day one, growing and becoming stronger until neither could resist.

It was different to any sex she had ever had. It just felt right, she felt worshiped, cherished, and she ached to return that feeling to him. It was the start of something and it filled her with excitement, optimism, joy. She watched him come, uninhibited, in total trust, moments after she finished; heard him yell her name, tasted the sweat on his skin as she kissed him. Jenna held him as he settled, listened to his confession; how often he had thought of what they had just done, how close to his fantasy it had been, how grateful he was, how overwhelmed.

Please, please let it last longer than tonight. The responsibility was now hers. Her decision. She lay thinking in the dark of the bedroom. After a long while he lifted his head and looked at her.

‘Jenna?’

‘Hmm?’ she stroked his damp hair absently.

‘Have you thought about… I know this is probably the wrong time to ask… but next season, is this it or…’

‘It’s exactly the right time to ask,’ she said looking at him.

‘And?’ he was meeting her eye but she could see how nervous he was of her answer, biting down on his lip and worrying it. ‘Will you stay with us… me?’ he asked.

Jenna smiled and leaned forward to peck him on the cheek. She didn’t need to speak, he knew the moment her lips touched him and his responding smile was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

‘Merry Christmas,’ she whispered.


	7. Like Autumn Leaves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenna and Peter spend time in London, like fish out of water away from their bubble in Wales.

Jenna loved the time of year, the late October chill where she could still find herself warmed in the sun of an Indian summer. Breezes that ruffled leaves and tossed her hair into her eyes, made her keep her head down and hide her face in her scarf. Conkers on pavements and sycamore seeds winging through the air. This week had been particularly charming and beautiful, she had cracked open her autumn wardrobe and dressed in boots and jumpers and gone for walks for no reason other than it was nice outside. Golds and ambers and reds and browns, they suited her complexion, the warm gold and green of her necklace, the mahogany of the trees, it all had significance and beauty. All of it just made her smile.

Peter had been busy, slightly busier than her. While they had both promoted the show he held the mantle of New Doctor while she was The Same Companion. His presence was demanded everywhere. Every chat show, every magazine interview, every photoshoot. He had practically set up his own stall in Oxford street outside HMV for signings. He had text her on a break last week to say how weird he found it when it used to be him queuing to see Tom Baker.

So while she had relative freedom after filming ended he was working just as hard. She hung out with her girlfriends and did a few charity bits; he flew to Africa to visit children’s hospitals for Comic Relief. He had gone from acting the part to being the Doctor. He was ‘on’ all the time, expected to be a certain way, to uphold a certain something. He was up to his eyeballs in commitments and at the same time he was adding to his workload, she’d see the sacks of fan mail and had stared wide eyed when he told he was replying to all of it. All of it. Every last one, because ‘he would have been heartbroken as a six year old fan if he hadn’t got a reply from the Doctor.’ He even sent video responses.

Jenna told him he was mad and he agreed. She watched him sign picture after picture when she was with him and had to admit, he was amazing with his new fans; but she was also strangely jealous, they were seeing more of him than she was. Then there was his family, rightly claiming time with him; and his other friends. It was hard. She had spent all day every day with him for nine months and now they were living very separate lives, just as they’d ‘got it together’ three days before the shoot finished.

Well time to take back a little. Jenna had periodically been organising ‘days,’ and it was time for another. She missed him and she wanted time and he was in London this week, back at home in the house down the road from hers now that he’d been forced to move upmarket and away from a school full of fans. Not far from either of them there was a café. It wasn’t big and it wasn’t famous so it would do nicely.

 _Meet me. This afternoon at 3. Bonkers Betty’s Coffee and Cakes._ Jenna sent the text as she walked.

 _That’s a bit short notice!_ He replied.

_You’re a grown man, say you’re popping out for something, go on a walk._

_Because that’s not suspicious when I haven’t even got dressed yet._

Jenna raised her eyebrows and stopped in the street. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know why he wasn’t up properly yet. She hoped he was just tired and having a lie in. Alone. She hated the reality that he had a wife, tried not to think of it. The phone buzzed again in her hand.

_That’s not how it sounds!!!!_

She laughed in relief. OK. She started walking to the café again.

_Stop lazing about and meet me then. I miss you._

Jenna dropped the phone back into her bag and pushed the café door open. Peter would be ready fairly fast she was sure of it, he was getting better a sneaking out but there just weren’t many opportunities between his work and hers and their mutual partners. Not that Richard was around much or particularly interested in what she was up to. She spotted an empty table at the back and ordered the usual; her cappuccino and his latte. He would probably come in and demand cake or something ridiculously sugary for his terminal sweet tooth but she’d leave that to him. She had no idea why he didn’t have dentures by now.

She sat with her sunglasses still on for a moment and then released the waitress was looking at her oddly. It wasn’t exactly bright in the café, a cloud was moving over the sun and the lights had yet to be turned on. She took the glasses off and sipped from her cup. Lava hot. Scrap that plan. The cup returned to the saucer, Jenna stared out the window instead.

He didn’t take long and when she saw him she had to try and contain her laughter. It had been maybe ten days since she last managed to grab him for half an hour and in that time his eternally sprouting hair had sprouted even more so that he looked like a cross between an owl chick and a burst sofa. In addition he appeared to have grown a beard, donned his sunglasses and by the looks of it had been wearing a flat cap until he had opened the door. Ignoring the woman at the counter and keeping his chin hunkered down in his overcoat’s collar he sidled into the booth next to Jenna.

‘Hi,’ he said like he was in a spy movie.

She giggled, ‘You look… unkempt,’ she said.

‘Yeah it’s a disguise.’

‘Not just laziness?’

He looked over his glasses at her, ‘No, that’s very offensive of you. I would happily shave every day it’s just better this way, for not being recognised.’

Jenna nodded sagely. ‘Right…. The waitress is staring by the way.’

‘She could be staring at you,’ he pointed out.

’No one ever recognises me. I think it’s because I’m short. People often say they don’t expect TV people to be short so they walk past them.’

‘No-one ever walks past me these days…’ Peter considered without irritation, ‘I was stopped twice on the way here despite my cunning disguise.’ He pulled his latte towards him. ‘How’s it going?’

‘OK I guess,’ she said and then realised how downbeat she sounded. ‘Is it sad that I’m actually really looking forward to January, to getting back to it? I don’t deal well with too much downtime.’

‘Is that what it is? Downtime? Boredom?’

She glanced sideways at him and held her breath for a second, ‘Oh OK no… I miss you, I’m bored without you, you’re my best friend but I can’t spend anywhere near as much time with you as I want; and you’re…’ she leaned in closer, ‘You’re my … not boyfriend exactly…’

‘Bit old for that, plus you have one,’

Jenna rolled her eyes, ‘Don’t I just. Well actually no. We’re having another break.’

‘Oh?’

‘He drives me nuts if he’s around too much. Controlling.’

‘Oh,’ Peter said more seriously. ‘Not good.’

‘Anyway you’re my…person of import, boyfriend, lover, whatever, and I miss you. I want you,’ she realised her hand had found its way to his thigh under the table and crept up towards his body. Jenna looked at his face, a slight blush and a slight look of surprise. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘It’s just it’s been weeks. I know we talk and text and meet but…’

Peter chuckled to himself, ‘It’s not quite enough…?’

Jenna slumped back into her seat. ‘Not much can be done about it I suppose. Cant risk it here, cameras everywhere in London, paparazzi, people with their bloody iphones. We’ll probably be snapped today walking or drinking our coffee…’

Peter pursed his lips and she tried not to look too closely at them lest she be tempted. ‘Even if we do we’re co-stars,’ he said, ‘and I’m too old for you, people won’t add it together.’

She sighed. ‘I wonder if anyone thinks we’re you know… at it?’

Another laugh. ‘They would think you had better taste… like Richard, he’s appropriate boyfriend material.’

She upped her sigh to a raspberry sounding noise and followed it with a pout.

‘I wish we had somewhere to….’ She stopped. ‘Wait, we do. I mean I’m assuming Elaine’s at yours.’

‘Yes. Mostly always.’

‘But Richard isn’t hanging around mine… for once…’ suddenly she was sitting up, heart hammering. ‘Peter, we could…’

Peter was staring at her, ‘Jenna, calm down.’

‘But don’t you see, Richard or his stupid friends have been hanging round for months and now he’s gone off elsewhere, not likely to knock on the door, probably drunk and in the bed of some blonde by now. It’s the first time in ages the house has been properly mine. Every time I’ve met with you so far neither of us has had a place to go… we’ve just been floating from place to place like leaves on the breeze… but now…’

The penny was dropping; she could see it in his eyes. She squeezed the thigh under her hand and felt him cover her fingers with his own.

‘Are you saying we should sneak back to yours?’ he whispered, ‘What if we’re seen?’

‘Co-stars, friends, just like you said. Drink your coffee.’

‘What?’ he was wide eyed and amused. Jenna picked up her still scorching cappuccino and began to tip it back. In between sips she had froth on her lips and cocoa powder. She wiped it on a napkin while Peter drank his coffee slightly more sedately.

‘Settle down,’ he laughed, ‘You’re practically bouncing in your seat.’

‘I’m excited,’ she said.

‘So I see…’

‘And I need you, I’m going to explode.’

He laughed again and drank his beverage.

‘Peter I really mean it when I say how much I miss you, it’s like a physical ache…’

‘No, that’s something else…’ he joked.

‘Shut up… but yes that too… really that… right now in particular. Despite the beard.’

‘What’s wrong with the beard?! I thought it was quite sexy, you _seem_ to be in the mood anyway…’ he said.

Jenna grinned and took another deep slurp of coffee. ‘Sorry I’m usually more subtle declaring my love for you…’

‘So I see,’ he thoughtfully eyed her neckline, ‘Is that?’

‘The pedant you gave me at ‘Pretend Christmas,’ yes,’ she said smugly. ‘Green Raxacoricofallapatorian amber…’

Peter smiled in self-satisfaction, partly she could tell at her pronunciation and partly at the geeky romance of the whole thing. He was such a nerd, she knew it appealed to him that she was wearing a pendant made of the same stuff as his Doctor ring, that it made her his somehow. She tried to ignore the knowledge that his ring was also half his wedding band.

‘Anyone worked out the significance?’ he was asking.

‘Nope, it’s a step too far into Geek. They ask what it is and I just say green amber, they don’t link it to you,’ she said and then paused with the cup suspended before her mouth. Jenna frowned, ‘Although I did see Richard glaring at some photographs of you in costume recently, but then he does that anyway, I don’t think it was particularly at the ring, but it was prominent in the shots,’ she dismissed it, ‘I’m probably just paranoid. He gets jealous of our friendship. God knows what he’d do if he worked out what we are actually doing, or why I actually wear this pendant.’

Peter set down his cup with a ‘Hmm,’ and then smoothed his hands over his knees. ‘Why do you wear it?’

‘Isn’t that obvious?!’

‘Tell me…’ he said softly. He looked up at her with that vulnerable look passing behind his eyes, just for a moment, just long enough to register.

‘So I always… have you with me I suppose,’ she blushed, ‘That sounds so sappy.’

‘I gave it to you, that makes me worse,’ he said shyly, he sat up straight. ‘So… You think it’s safe at your place for an hour… or two?’

‘You think you can spare that long?’

‘Like you said I’m a grown man, I can go out for a bit… don’t need reasons…’

Jenna smiled and felt her heart lift. ‘Right, OK then, operation get home unspotted starts now…. Sunglasses on, scarf, collar up, flat cap…’ she giggled as he set it on his head, ‘Think we’re ready double oh seven, let’s go.’

He held the door for her as they left the café and she scrunched her face down into her scarf again as they walked side by side, their arms unlinked; just two friends out for a stroll on an autumn afternoon, the leaves swirling at their feet.


	8. Snow White; Slush Grey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter and Jenna are reunited at the start of series 9 filming; its been a hard few months apart.

It would all be OK when she got there, it had to be. Jenna trudged the few hundred yards between her apartment and Peter’s. It had been snowing over the New Year but now it was melting, rain drizzling down on the picturesque white powder so that it gave way to grey dirt-stained slush. A car rattled past and threw up lumps of it, splattering across the half cleared pavement. She kicked it and it stuck to her boots, wet, cold and unpleasant. The drizzle landed on her face and hair, not quite wetting it but making her feel even more miserable and frozen. Jenna hugged herself and hurried on.

Christmas, real Christmas not Pretend Christmas, had been lousy. The day itself with her family was fine, she was always glad to see them and eat home cooking, but the run up and the week or so afterwards in London before she got back to Wales, was an emotional rollercoaster. It was supposed to be relaxing, a break to catch up on sleep, see friends, but instead she found herself on edge and restless; out of place somehow.

She had barely seen Peter; tied up as he was with family and needed back home in Scotland for a period. She completely understood, missed him horribly, and carried on as normal best she could, patiently waiting and exchanging texts. It was Richard who was increasingly the problem. When she was working she hardly ever saw him so the change in him was quite obvious by the time she got back for the holiday. More suspicious, more irritable, more demanding. When they had been seen in public he had made suggestions as to how he wanted her to appear; her dress and behaviour and she kicked against it. Who was he to tell her what to do?

It just made her think of Peter more; whenever she tried to focus on her four year relationship with her boyfriend the contrast between Richard and her co-star became just too great. Eventually they had had a flaming and rather pointless row about not much at all and he’d stormed out. Jenna found herself just not caring very much and realised the whole thing was falling apart. Richard would probably crawl back at some point, maybe they’d hang out, feel compelled to try again, but give it a few more months and then it would be over completely. She made herself a cup of tea and text Peter a quick update, with Richard gone she was a little freer… if he had the time.

They had no time in December, the most she saw of him was on screen on their Christmas Special. It made her smile, the ending, they looked good together, and text each other to say so, but it was practically all the contact they had, barring one quick readthrough for the next series. A few hours with Steven and the crew, no chance to catch up properly or to be alone; they dashed to their various engagements after a peck on the cheek.

Now it was January and the hectic nature of the holiday period gave way to vast empty stretches of long dark days. The only bonus was Wales, and the time alone it lent them. Oh just to sit on the couch and talk, share a drink, be normal. They worked so well together, it didn’t matter what they did, just seeing him would raise her spirits again and she would escape from real life and enter the ‘bubble’ again. Thank God she had agreed to stay on, she was realising increasingly that she was never quite happy unless he was there.

Jenna reached his building and kicked the slush out of the grips on her boots, she shuddered with the cold and pressed the buzzer, pushing her way indoors as soon as the catch released. It was mercifully warm inside and she rubbed her hands as she climbed the stairs. She was too antsy for the lift, too much energy and anxiety. She had to see him, touch him, have her arms around him. She had barely slept the night before for excitement. Her heart just skipped and danced at the idea he would be here today and that they would be reunited. Nine more months together. Filming all day and spending time together at night. Yes, it might be hidden and secret but even that could be spun as a positive, adding to the thrill. She rapped on his door and bounced on her heels trying to contain herself.

The door opened and he stood looking at her a little blankly for a moment. He looked bedraggled and a little grey.

‘Hi,’ she said and smiled hard, ‘here we are!’

Peter blinked a little owlishly and then a small smile crept over his lips in response. ‘Hi, come in…’ he moved aside and she trotted in. The apartment wasn’t fully set up yet with his things, it still had a half unpacked looked, but she noticed the first episode script was out already on the couch. Jenna removed her coat and threw it over the back of a chair. She turned and hugged him hard around his middle.

‘I’m so glad we’re back,’ she said into his chest. He was wearing a soft green jumper and she rubbed her nose against it breathing him in. ‘Mmm…’ she sighed. Peter’s hand wound its way into her hair and she felt herself being petted like a favourite cat. It made her giggle, him scratching her scalp. After a moment she leaned back and looked at him. She frowned.

‘You look terrible,’ she said, ‘What’s wrong?’ He looked for a moment like he was about to apply a mask, dismiss the concern and distract her. His face began the change into a forced relaxed and happy expression and then suddenly gave way. His whole self seemed to sag and he stepped away only to sink onto the couch. Jenna stared at him in confusion. ‘Peter? What is it?’

He held his face in his hands for a moment before pushing himself back into the cushions and allowing his head to flop back.

‘Oh Jenna it’s been horrible, you’ve no idea how relieved I am to be here again. I don’t have to pretend, I don’t have to fake it, I can just be here…with you….’

Jenna came to kneel next to him on the sofa and threaded her fingers through his fluffy hair. ‘Talk to me’ she said.

‘I don’t want to bore you.’

‘Oh Peter!’ she batted him.

‘OK, OK… it’s just… it’s been so weird. The show gets broadcast and suddenly I’m everywhere, doing everything, being the Doctor, getting stalked by tiny children in supermarkets, signing anything that can host an indelible pen, appearing on chat show after chat show. I never stop and that’s in so many ways brilliant, my life’s ambition, I’m loving it but…’

‘But?

‘But things are strained… at home… since…’

‘Since Rio?’ she asked praying he’d say no, it wasn’t her fault.

‘Since Rio, since the premiere, since… all of it. It’s all very polite, very civil, but I feel like I’m being watched for any slip ups, any further clues. I don’t know whether to mention you or not, what looks more suspicious? Talking about my co-star or ignoring her existence? I’ve been tense since August, I can actually feel it in my muscles…not that there are many of them,’ he added. ‘Not exactly buff.’

Jenna rolled her eyes, ‘Don’t be daft.’

‘I’m serious… I got here this morning and it was like a weight had lifted. It got easier as I unpacked. I can feel myself un-knotting, I still feel pretty shit but its going,’ Jenna watched his face as he spoke, he shut his eyes and relaxed his shoulders.

‘I guess it’s because you can be open here,’ she suggested, ‘Like you said, you don’t have to pretend and you don’t have to judge how to pitch things so they’re believable.’

‘No,’ he shook his head against the back of the couch, ‘it’s not that. Everything is upside down Jenna. We moved house and I’ve barely been there, I spend most of my year _here_. This has become home. I feel like I’ve been on a three month trip and I’ve finally made it back. And that goes for you and Elaine too which is just so confusing I don’t know where to start with it. She always used to represent home, the person I always came back to…’

Jenna realised she as holding her breath, ‘Peter… don’t… ‘

‘But that’s how it feels, and it’s terrifying really.’ He sat up again, looked at her directly. ‘ _You’ve_ become home. I’m lost without you now, I can’t function in London, I’ve not been sleeping…’

Jenna shifted just a little closer and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close; she rubbed her hands down his back and kissed his cheek. She could feel him breathe out and willed stillness into him.

‘How are the muscles?’ she asked. ‘Want a rub down?’

‘I wasn’t hinting,’ he said, ‘Just explaining.’

‘I know, I just… want to reconnect I suppose. I just get this sense neither of us is on top of the world today and thought I’m not ruling it out completely I don’t think we’re going to be swinging from the chandelier immediately. I want to spend time with you, we’re had so little of it. Let me work your back, hmm? Let’s just cuddle and touch and be together…. Even if that does sound incredibly girly and I can’t believe I’m that slushy.’

He laughed and she felt him nuzzle against her neck and slip his hands under her top, stroking the soft skin gently as he sighed against her. Jenna’s could almost feel his tension escaping him with each breath and it made her smile. When she’d arrived he’d looked haggard, drawn and exhausted. Now he was melting, eyes closed, holding her close. ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘It’s horrible outside, lets cosy up in bed for the afternoon.’ Jenna stood and offered her hand, watched him take it and walked him into the as yet disorganised bedroom.

It was grey with twilight despite the early hour. Jenna undid her buttons while she watched him lift folded piles of clothes off the bed. The light made his cheeks look more hollow and his hair more silver. When he undid his shirt the planes of his chest were more obvious. She stepped forward and ran her hands up them, noted how dark his eyes were in that light. She waited while he undid his belt, his gaze fixed on her and sending heat down her spine; watched him pop open his trouser button and undo the zip. Jenna’s hands rested on his hips while he pushed the rest of his clothes off and away.

Peter stopped to kiss her and drew her up in his arms, balancing her while she stood on tiptoes to deepen the kiss and clutch at the back of his neck; grey curls in her fingers and nails scratching his skin. He moaned immediately and she could feel him hard already, weeks of being forced apart now having its release. Jenna gave way to him and allowed herself to lie on the bed while he joined her, naked now, stripping her of her own clothes with urgent determination. She giggled as he removed her jeans.

‘I’m supposed to be rubbing your back,’ she said, ‘You know, ease your muscles, get you in the mood?’

‘Get me in the mood?’ he said suspended above her on his arms, his pelvis between her legs, ‘I’m not lacking the mood…’ he kissed her again sloppily.

‘Apparently not,’ she reached up and rubbed the crook of his neck on both sides; trailed her fingers up the muscles to his jaw and massaged the nape of his neck. Peter closed his eyes and hummed in appreciation, wriggled against her.

Jenna’s breath hitched. ‘OK, you’re in the mood, I believe you,’ she felt him smile. ‘God, I’ve missed you so much.’

‘I’ve missed you too,’ he said. There was something about the deep timbre of his voice that made her want to devour him, suddenly Jenna couldn’t kiss him deep enough or have him fast enough. The sense that he didn’t feel emotionally one hundred percent only added to her need to make things right, and as for her own experiences with Richard over Christmas they merely convinced her that Peter was what she needed, and she needed him Right Now.

Her hands gripped at his back and she dug in hard with her nails drawing a painfully delicious noise from his throat. She dragged them down over his skin and held him to her by his buttocks, wrapping her legs around him and challenging him with her hips.

She wondered if he would slow her down, like he sometimes did when he wanted them to savour things a little more, but instead he responded. He seemed to be achingly hard, driving against her and then into her hand. He was more often than not rather quiet but this time he was moaning freely at her ear, and repeating little pleas and compliments to her which shot through her like the touches of his hands. He knew just what to say to get to her so she echoed him, telling him she needed him, repeating things she’d never dream of saying to anyone else.

Peter entered her quickly and drove down hard into the bed, months of pent up frustration now riding between them. Yes, they had met on a handful of occasions but their meetings were always hampered somewhat by time, or guilt. Here they were in their own bubble again, uninterrupted, away from judging eyes and risks of being caught. They felt free to be together and it released a core of need that had been tied up in chains for weeks. In minutes he had her shuddering under him, her back arched as he froze above her gasping and growling his relief.

It was dark when they finished and Jenna rolled over to be cradled in his arms as he dozed. She felt the exhaustion of the last few months begin to leave him; because pretending was exhausting, loving someone you couldn’t be with was exhausting; pain was exhausting. She listened to the traffic outside, passing by on wet and snowy roads, the last of the holidays melting way at the start of a New Year, and she felt grateful. No more pretending for a while.

The rain would wash the rest of the grimy slush away and tomorrow might be brighter and cleaner. The next week they would travel abroad to shoot on location; somewhere warm, somewhere far from the cold of winter. They would be, as always, joined at the hip, safe in their bubble, living in a world where pretend had become real, and real life wasn’t welcome.

God help them if that bubble ever burst.


	9. Sun Sea Sandstorm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The cracks are showing; love isn't always enough.

‘Oh yes,’ Jenna jumped ahead on the warm sand, ‘This is the life, _this,_ ’ she gestured to the white sands and green sea, ‘is why I opted for drama and not home economics in fourth year.’

They had touched down just an hour ago but already Jenna had managed to drag her pasty companion out into the sun. He squinted at her behind his sunglasses as she danced before him in her bikini. He wore a white t-shirt and light trousers, was already breaking out in a sweat, and had about ten minutes before he fried. Jenna stopped jigging and looked at him in frustration.

‘Peter…’ she wheedled. ‘They’ve given us a day, a whole day. Tomorrow we’ll be wearing heavy costumes and waiting about in the sun baking, but in an unpleasant way. Look around you, it’s off peak, it’s gorgeous, its warm… Peter it’s warm. London’s been so horrible and freezing…’

‘Jenna I’m from Glasgow I’m going to melt. Freezing I can do.’

‘You normally like the beach,’ she pouted putting her hands on her hips and staring up at him.

‘Normally…. Maybe I’m just not in a very… beach mood,’ he said.

‘What’s the matter?’ Jenna stepped back towards him, ‘Thought things were picking up? Feeling more relaxed about… things…. us?’ she added in a whisper.

‘I am.’

‘You don’t look it.’

‘Look Wales is one thing,’ he glanced around him, ‘But this place, even off peak, is full of British tourists. We still have to be careful.’

‘I’m not asking you to frolic down the sands with me hand in hand,’ Jenna said irritated, ‘Just come for a walk, paddle in the bloody sea, friends are allowed to do that.’

He chewed his lip hesitantly. He was driving her mad with his reluctance and his fretting. He couldn’t see things objectively anymore after his stint at home on hiatus. He worried all the time. The press, the media, what would they see, how would he be perceived, how would the fans react. Alone in a room together with Jenna he was as uninhibited as anyone could ask but take them outside for a moment, risk being seen in the same place at the same time, and he just about collapsed with anxiety.

His lip chewing became thumb gnawing. She waited, half turned to continue down the sand towards a little rocky outcrop, and sure he enough he held back.

‘You go,’ he said, hands in pockets, ‘I’ll only burn and then moan about it.’

Jenna looked at him in disbelief and briefly considered trying to talk him round, but then a wave of annoyance hit her.

‘Fine, fine, whatever, go back to the hotel, I’ll see you later or something,’ she said and set off determined not to glance round, but of course she did, a few moments later. He was walking back up the beach, shoulders slumped, and she immediately felt rotten. She should have tried, shouldn’t she?

After half an hour or so in the sun she lost all enjoyment and walked back, suddenly less excited by their Lanzarote trip. She and Peter had gone places before for location filming but for some reason this time she was sorely looking forward to it. The Canaries were romantic, when then checked in they came across honeymooning couples drinking cocktails at the bar of the hotel and loved up pairs holding hands by the pool. It made her feel fuzzy and warm. She wasn’t stupid, she knew she couldn’t do that with Peter so obviously, but she could have a taste, right? Apparently not, he was on full defensive mode. Just as they mustn’t give anything away about the new series to their fans, who he was right, had followed them this far in little groups, they must also not be seen together in any way that wasn’t work related.

Jenna climbed the steps to the bar and paused for a second considering sitting there alone for the best part of the afternoon and ordering tequila. She glanced around the room and spotted Steven in one corner scribbling something on a manuscript and on the other side of the room a very familiar fan who she had met at least ten times. She couldn’t quite face conversations with either so she made sure her sunglasses were covering the best part of her face and slipped quietly out into the hall and the lift. She could have tequila in her room.

She woke several hours later to a persistent tapping on her door, sat up too fast and felt nauseous. The room was dark and when she slid off the bed she banged her knee on a table. Jenna stumbled to the door and switched on the light before opening it. Peter stood in the corridor with a puzzled expression on his face.

‘Are you drunk?’ he asked.

‘Yes. Why?’

‘You never get drunk, at least not when there’s fans around or…’

‘Oh sod the bloody fans, I can do what I want. And so can you for that matter,’ she stumbled back to the bed and sat heavily. Peter stood in the doorway looking baffled.

‘Um… is this about earlier..?’ he asked helplessly. Jenna made a frustrated noise and looked up.

‘You don’t have to be ‘on’ all the time, you can take time to yourself,’ she said.

Peter came in and shut the door. ‘Except I can’t really,’ he said. ‘Even if I switch ‘off’ the Doctor I can’t be that relaxed with you, you know that, not if people are around. Jenna we spoke about this…’

‘Didn’t we just… several times,’ she hunted in her mini bar for more tequila but only found gin. ‘Every time I try and advance things, plan something nice with you, it’s ‘we can’t Jenna someone might see.’’

‘Well what would you like me to do?’ he asked, irritated. The edge to his voice made her look up, ‘People follow me now, they hang about wherever we’re filming, there are even some here, now, hoping to meet us. We’ve a responsibility….’

‘Right…’ she said a little bitterly and took a swig of the gin.

Peter shook his head, ‘I’ve never seen you like this…’

‘I’ve never _felt_ like this!’ she snapped.

‘Like what?’

‘Secondary to the bloody show! To your fans, your friends, your family and your bloody wife!’

Peter at on the edge of the bed with her and looked down at his hands.

‘Shit…’ Jenna said, ‘I’m sorry, Peter I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have… any of that, God I shouldn’t have said that, I don’t mean it.’

‘Yes you do.’

‘No!’ she clutched at one of his wrists, ‘I’m just frustrated, I’m being silly. Of course I understand where you’re coming from. I knew this going in, I’ve no right to complain now…’

Peter covered her hand with his briefly. ‘Yes you do, you have every right, it’s not easy for either of us and what are you asking for that’s so outrageous really? So unthinkable? A walk on the beach? That’s not much to ask. I’m paranoid. I’m over reacting and making us miserable. I’m sorry.’

They sat in silence for a minute reflecting on their individual positions. Jenna drank the gin and tonic she had mixed and Peter helped himself to beer. He stood by the window looking down over the beach and sighed. Both knew why the other was saying what they said, what they feared and what they needed. They’d just been absorbed in their own fears and needs.

Peter sat in the windowseat and she could feel him watching her, the heat of his guilt reaching her without the need for touch. Guilt for what he was doing with her, guilt for not doing enough or in the right way. Eventually she couldn’t stand it.

‘Peter, stop beating yourself up,’ she said, standing and dumping her glass on top of the minibar. She crossed to where he was sitting and sat in his lap without permission, knocking the wind from him and wrapping her arm around his neck. She felt his warm hand on her side and his lips on her temple.

‘It’s dark,’ she observed.

‘Yes,’ he said sadly, ‘We’ve wasted our one day, because I’ve been an idiot. Again.’

Jenna glanced out the window, ignoring him. ‘Think most of the tourists are in the bar by now?’

He followed her gaze to the largely empty beach, ‘Seems so.’

‘Fancy a stroll?’ She raised her eyebrows and held his eye.

Peter let out a long breath, tightened his arms around her for a moment. ‘I don’t think….’ He started. She cocked her head at him… ‘That will be…. Yes, OK, let’s go.’ Jenna sprang off his lap and went to grab a coverup from her case.

‘Now remember, it’s just a walk…’ she said, ‘No need to fret, there’s no-one out there now, it’s just going to be the two of us. What? What’s that look for?’ she frowned and he raised both hands in a protestation of innocence.

Around midnight, about a mile down the beach, behind an outcrop of rocks and hidden in a sandy inlet safe from prying eyes, Jenna looked up at the stars and counted Orion’s Belt and Sword until she regained her breath.

‘What… was that?’ she asked.

Peter pulled himself up and leaned on his elbow, walked his fingers down her belly, bare, sweaty, covered in sand.

‘You haven’t heard of sex on the beach?’ he said deadpan.

Jenna groaned loudly, ‘Oh shut up! Shut up immediately! You have totally shagged me _just_ so you could say that haven’t you…? You…. You…’ She shoved him back into the sand. ‘I am going to punish you so badly for this!’

He wriggled under her, fits of giggling running through him from her fingertips until at last she stopped, straddled across his hips, the dark sky behind her and her skin lit by moonlight. She watched as the stars reflected in his eyes and a relaxed smile graced his lips for the first time in months.

‘We ok?’ she asked softly.

He reached up and touched her cheek. ‘Always,’ he said. Jenna frowned and looked carefully at his face. ‘What is it?’ she asked and watched him look away, at the sky and stars above them.

‘Oh Jenna, I hope there never comes a day I have to be without you.’

‘Me too,’ she answered.

He smiled sadly, ‘You say that now.’


	10. April Showers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jenna isn't feeling too well.

Jenna could not stop crying; the slightest thing set her off and she was beginning to feel unhinged. Everything was fine, the first few eps were in the bag, everything was back on schedule, and Lanzarote had picked up once she and Peter had their fight. The only things she could thing of that might be affecting her were a slight summer cold, an annoying ex boyfriend, oh, and the stalker who was hanging about outside the studios each night wanting yet another picture and yet another autograph. She knew he was probably harmless, and she knew there were other people around but in her current frame of mind she couldn’t face him and had started sneaking out the back.

Of course Peter took up all the slack. He went out each evening to see her creepy little pal and give him the photo opportunity he wanted, without even looking mildly irritated. The man was a saint, he had endless time for these people, he never got tired or fractious. It made her feel ashamed. Her fan wasn’t asking for much, but it _felt_ like a lot after thirteen hours filming with a head cold and a mobile phone that kept buzzing with messages from ‘Dickhead.’

Four months into the shoot. A busy time with both their birthdays thrown in for good measure. The crew were suggesting various ways of celebrating but she wasn’t in a celebratory mood and in truth hadn’t been for weeks. She was feeling oddly antisocial and flat. Jenna sat in her trailer feeling poorly. She was wearing an orange spacesuit and it wasn’t the most comfortable thing to be ill in. The material was stiff and scratchy and it was a little too big so that when she sat her head sort of vanished into the collar. Really useful when you needed to get to your nose to blow it.

Blow her nose, yes she needed to do that or it would run. She looked quickly round the place. Where were her tissues? She stood and glanced over the kitchen counters; spotted the empty box and felt such a level of despair that she slumped down into her chair again and shut her eyes.

Sniff.

Sniff.

She wiped a drip away with the back of her hand and sniffed again making a ‘gah’ noise. She had to get this under control, if they tried to film her like this Clara would appear on screen with a red nose, teary eyed and feverish. They’d have to write a mystery virus into the script.

A knock at the door and she knew immediately who it was. It was jaunty and upbeat just like he was this week hanging out with Maisie, their guest star, and laughing with her as she taught him how to be down with the kids. Well Jenna was no fun so he might as well pal around with their co-star. She’d send him back over there in a minute so she could wallow some more about her cold.

‘Come in,’ she croaked. It swung open, and Peter, all bounce in his step and similar in his hair, trotted in and stood over her curiously. He lifted one hand and pointed at her, ‘You….’ He hazarded a guess, ‘Are ill.’

Jenna spluttered, a half laugh half cough. He grinned at her. ‘I got it right, yeah?’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Yes I am ill but I’m fine.’ Peter sat next to her and eyeballed her. ‘Hmm,’ he contemplated, ‘You can’t really do the take looking like that, I mean the make up girls are great but your eyes are bloodshot, and you’re all sweaty and….’

‘Thanks.’

‘And even if they do fix that you…’

She sneezed suddenly, powerfully and in such a way that she needed a tissue right now. Jenna sprang up and started hunting round the trailer for one.

‘… you might sneeze and ruin every take we do,’ he finished as she rummaged through a coat pocket.

‘Here,’ he said behind her. Jenna turned to find him holding out a packet of tissues and snatched them gratefully. Why did he always have the right stuff with him at the right time?

‘Don’t look!’ she ordered, ‘I’m snotty!’ Jenna blew her nose and heard him chuckle as he sat down. She got through three tissues before joining him. Peter leaned on the arm of his chair and surveyed her.

‘Honestly Jen, you look…’

‘Like shit,’ she said.

‘I was going to be more polite.’

‘No need,’ she held the used tissues in her hands. They felt damp and unpleasant. She glanced at Peter.

‘Bin,’ he said. Jenna tried to throw them and missed, watching as Peter got up to retrieve them and tidy. He must really care for her if he was willing to handle her snotty tissues, she realised, and it made her feel a bit better. She smiled to herself.

‘There’s a rare sight,’ he commented, standing with arms folded.

‘What?’

‘You, smiling, these days it’s pretty rare.’

‘I’m fine.’

‘Stop saying you’re fine.’

‘But I am,’ she protested.

‘Right, here’s what we’re going to do,’ Peter said as he sat back down. He held out his arms, ‘Come and sit on my knee, bring the tissues mind, and tell me what’s going on.’

Jenna hesitated, ‘What do you mean?’

He dropped his arms and sat looking at her with wide blue eyes. He could see straight through her she knew, but she wanted to hear what he thought he saw. He tilted his head sympathetically.

‘You’re not yourself this last couple of weeks and I don’t mean the head cold. You’re tense, a bit distant. You keep checking your phone.’

‘Creepy fan stalking me?’ Jenna tried.

Peter laughed, ‘He’s not that bad, he’s just a super fan, he doesn’t mean harm.’

‘He’s annoying.’

‘Oh, Jenna,’ he shook his head. ‘There’s no need…’

‘I know!’ she threw her hands up, ‘I just haven’t been feeling very patient lately.’

‘Why’s that? And will you please get over here?’

Jenna hauled herself out of her chair, grabbed her tissues and shuffled over to where Peter sat. she plopped down on his knee, her stupid orange spacesuit rustling. Peter seemed to find it amusing anyway, he tugged down a zipper so he could actually see her face properly and she glared at him.

‘Oh you _are_ in a mood,’ he said. ‘What is it?’

‘I don’t know!’ she answered tetchily, ‘Nothing, everything. I don’t know if I am coming or going, if I’m happy or sad. I keep bursting into tears and then I want to yell at people.’

‘People or _person_?’

‘Mainly person.’

‘Want to expand?’

Jenna huffed but gave in. Eventually Peter always got the truth from her and she had to admit she always felt better but she didn’t want to share this one with him for fairly obvious reasons. Unfortunately ‘Dickhead’ wasn’t taking the hint. She couldn’t one hundred percent blame him either which annoyed her further. They’d split up and got back together so many times in the last four years that of course he was expecting the same now.

‘It’s Richard.’

Peter made an ‘O’ shape with his mouth.

‘I understand if you don’t want to hear it,’ she said hurriedly.

‘No, no its fine…. What about him?’

‘Well I ended it…’ she started and watched Peter’s face transform into a slightly more relaxed expression. ‘But he isn’t taking the hint and he’s getting a bit… intrusive.’

‘Intrusive?’

Jenna fetched her phone from her pocket and checked inbox and missed calls. ‘Forty three texts today alone,’ she said,’ Oh and twelve missed calls.’

‘What? That’s insane!’ Peter said. ‘What does he want?’

‘Me, obviously,’ she said and he laughed.

‘Fair enough,’ Peter agreed.

‘Seriously though I can handle the fan and the cold and the long days and the fact we have to be a secret, but I can’t handle stroppy Ex when he’s added to the mix. It’s exhausting and draining and I’ve been on edge since I told him it was finished.‘

Peter was watching her closely. ‘Does he scare you?’ he asked.

‘No, not like that. I just…’ she considered, ‘there’s so much water under the bridge, so much he keeps trying to drag up as evidence of our perfect life together, he won’t let it go, he won’t move on, but I don’t think for a minute it’s because he loves me… so why is he…?’

‘Male ego. He wants to be the one to make the decision. If he won you back he could end things on his terms.’

‘Makes sense,’ she said, ‘Fits his personality. You’re a wise old thing,’ she ruffled his hair.

‘Thanks, I spent a few decades learning this stuff. Might as well pass it all on before I die.’

Jenna felt her face fall.

‘What?’ he asked lightly. ‘I’m not being serious.’

‘Well don’t say that then,’ Jenna said. To her mortification she felt her increasingly unreliable eyes grow wet again. She kissed his cheek to hide it but sharp as ever he’d already seen.

‘Come here,’ he pulled her against his shoulder so she could snuggle. ‘Bit of TLC will sort you out.’ Jenna shut her eyes and let his breathing lull her for a few minutes before the sound of late spring rain began on the tin roof of her trailer. It pitter-pattered pleasantly overhead and the contrast between the weather outside and her warm comfortable position on Peter’s lap made her feel safe. She might even go and see her Fan at the end of today’s shoot. He’d probably been standing by the gates all day getting drenched and then dried off by the variable environment. Peter always saw it as loyalty rather than stalking. She should do the same. Poor kid was probably miserable out there; she could even take him a sandwich.

‘Mmm, you’re comfy,’ she murmured and Peter’s arm tightened briefly before striking down her side and joining hands with the other. Encircled, protected, the sound of his breathing by her ear. It couldn’t get better, little moments like this were what she lived for, and there wasn’t a thing that would improve it.

‘ _Drip, drip, drip, little April Shower, beating a tune as you fall all around…_ ’

Except maybe Peter quietly singing a tune from Bambi as a lullaby for her. Jenna’s smile widened.

‘You are ridiculously sweet,’ she said.

‘ _Drip, drip, drip little April shower what can compare to your beautiful sound_?’ he kissed the top of her head. ‘I can get even more saccharin if you like?’ he asked.

Jenna rubbed his chest and shifted a little so she could see one of the windows, watch the rain fall.

‘Nope you have it just right.’

They sat entwined for a few minutes just listening to nature sooth them.

‘It’ll pass…’ Peter said from nowhere.

‘What will?’ she asked half asleep.

‘The bother with Richard. All of it. He’ll get the message and life will move on, it always does.’

‘Yeah… Nothing lasts forever’ Jenna said sadly.

‘Nothing lasts forever. Not hassle from exes, not fans stalking you. Bad patches are like the rain; they come like clouds and then they move on.’

Jenna held him tight against her, filled with a sudden urge to never let go. ‘Keep singing,’ she said, closing her eyes and willing away the feeling his words gave her, ‘I’m not ready for the end of the song.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> April Showers from Bambi
> 
> Drip, drip, drop
> 
> Little April shower
> 
> Beating a tune
> 
> As you fall all around 
> 
>  
> 
> Drip, drip, drop
> 
> Little April shower
> 
> What can compare
> 
> To your beautiful sound 
> 
>  
> 
> Drip, drip, drop
> 
> When the sky is cloudy
> 
> Your pretty music
> 
> Can brighten the day 
> 
>  
> 
> Drip, drip, drop
> 
> When the sun says howdy
> 
> You say goodbye right away 
> 
>  
> 
> Drip, drip drop
> 
> Little April shower
> 
> Beating a tune
> 
> Ev'rywhere that you fall 
> 
>  
> 
> Drip, drip drop
> 
> Little April shower
> 
> I'm getting wet
> 
> And I don't care at all 
> 
>  
> 
> Drip, drop, drip, drop
> 
> I'll never be afraid
> 
> Of a good little
> 
> Gay little
> 
> April serenade


	11. Those Summer Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 1 of 2 Those Summer Nights takes place near the end of series 9 filming.

Two episodes to go. Laying on the couch in her apartment, Jenna stared at the ceiling and counted in her head the number of days and weeks left on the show. It was scarily brief. She felt like she’d been there forever, like she was part of the furniture. Even the apartment had become home over the last three years. She had more stuff here than she had in London half the time. She craned her neck and looked at the pile of ironing. Should really do that. She could give it to someone to do but that always felt a bit strange and privileged.

Her phone buzzed and she held it in front of her. ‘Dickhead’ had finally backed off and taken the hint so whoever this was, was probably welcome. Except, wait...

‘Oh,’ she said out loud to the text message. ‘how many times?’ She began to text back.

_Not tonight. Tired._

She waited and sure enough a reply shot back. It was one of the crew, nagging her to join them on a rare night out as a team.

_It’ll be fun, come on, fifties night! Music, food! We won’t get to hang out like this again except for the wrap party._

_Tired. It’s been a long, long week. Go, have fun, be a Pink lady or whatever. I need sleep._

_I have ways of making you come out, Coleman._

That made her laugh.

 _Oh?_ she asked.

_Oh yeah, I have my people, you don’t know who my people are…_

That was actually a bit creepy and Jenna screwed up her face and put the phone down. The crew member might have her contacts but Jenna has absolutely no intention of leaving the apartment for a bar tonight. Bath and bed for her, the others could do what they liked. She levered herself up from the couch and made her way to the bathroom, phone pocketed.

It was already eight o’clock, and she wasn’t sure how that had happened. The days sometimes went so fast and right now she could do with them dragging just a little so she could spend more time with Peter. It was July, and the shoot would end midway through August, give or take. The idea of it made her panic but at the same time she was exhausted, as was everyone else. Peter had visibly lost weight over the course of the series and had told her this week he wasn’t sure he had the energy to learn one more line. She could tell he was struggling, his good humour remained intact but he had to concentrate threefold to remember his words.

It was warm, balmy even, with a slight breeze and a perfect evening sun. Ordinarily she might have agreed that it was a nice night to sit outside and have a cocktail. She looked at herself in the mirror and considered. She wouldn’t see these people in three weeks or so, possibly not ever again, and she’d grown fond of them all. There were friends she would keep in contact with of course but in reality, there were just too many to keep up with. She’d go onto _Victoria_ and maybe she’d see some of the same faces but in truth, this was it, the end of an era.

There was the wrap party though, that’s what it was for, she’d go to that. Jenna turned on the hot tap and started to run the bath. The phone buzzed again. And kept buzzing. She took it out and looked at it, laughing to herself.

‘So you are the secret weapon?’ she said when she answered, ‘Jenna won’t come out so get Peter to persuade her?’

‘That seems to be the plan.’

‘Why are you going?’

She heard him breathe in in disbelief, ‘because we’re nearly finished and it would be nice to spend time with these guys before we all part ways.’

‘Two words. Wrap. Party.’

‘Two words. Hum. Bug. Stop being so miserable and come with,’ he said.

Jenna pouted and turned off the tap. ‘ Why?’ she whined.

‘I’ve just told you why.’

‘No that was why _you_ were going. Why should _I_?’

‘To be nice. To keep me company. To have fun… remember that?’

‘You hate this stuff,’ Jenna said, ‘You stay sober and leave at the earliest opportunity.’

‘Yes, that’s the plan,’ he said.

Jenna frowned and placed a hand on her hip, staring at herself again in the mirror. ‘So if that’s your plan why are you badgering me to…. Oh…..’

She smiled when she heard his response, ‘because quite obviously I want to disappear off at the earliest opportunity with you,’ he said. ‘Drive you home, make sure no-one molests you and you get to your apartment safely…’ he said in a meaningful drawl.

‘Ohhh,’ Jenna concluded, ‘I see. Designated driver?’

‘Always.’

‘How sensible.’

‘Well I’m too old for parties really. So… shall I pick you up?’

‘I need to get ready…’ she protested, ‘Give me a bit.’

‘No, just hold that thought, there’s a costume…’

‘What, now hang on a minute that was never in the deal.’

‘Don’t be a spoil sport.’

‘I’ve been in costume all day!’

‘Just… just trust me…it’ll be great,’ Peter said and hung up.

Jenna blew the hair out of her eyes and let the plug out of the bath.

He arrived fifteen minutes later, the buzzer ringing out from the main door downstairs. Jenna let him up and carried on applying foundation while he let himself in.

‘This better not be a Zygon outfit,’ she said, looking in her compact and smoothing the make-up under her eyes.

‘Not quite,’ he said from the door. He leaned on it and it shut behind him. Jenna looked up.

‘Oh my God,’ she said, open mouthed. She stood and approached him, stopping in the middle of the room to take in the whole picture. He cocked his eyebrow at her playfully over the top of his ever present sunglasses. ‘Oh my God,’ she said again. ‘That is…. Really quite sexy.’

 _Tight_ black jeans, black T-shirt, equally tight, and a stunning and probably vintage black leather jacket. Peter stood casually against the door, one hand in his jeans pocket and the other hold a clothes protector with presumably her outfit inside.

‘Peter!’ she said a little more huskily than she meant to. ‘Are you… is that…?’

‘It’s a fifties night. I mean technically I could just show up as me, because I am vintage 1958, but I thought this would be more fun.’

‘Tell me that’s a pink jacket in there?’ she said.

He smiled, ‘And a pair of extremely tight black trousers.’

Jenna scrambled across the room and took the bag. ‘Give me… I don’t know… twenty minutes…’ she said and disappeared into the bathroom. She quickly unzipped the protector and extracted the shiny pink ladies jacket and necktie, a little low cut top for underneath and a pair of ridiculously high black stilettos. Then she saw the trousers, pure PVC. She wondered if she would have to be stitched into them like Olivia Newton John. She wondered if she’d fit into them at all.

‘Talcum powder,’ Peter’s voice came through the door.

‘What?’ she said trying to straighten the clothes out.

‘To get into the trousers… stops you sticking….’

She paused and looked at the door. ‘How do you know that…?’

‘Um….’

‘Don’t tell me!’ she reached for the talc and liberally covered her legs before pouring some inside the legs of the PVC pants. She tugged them up, heaved and pushed her legs into them, and breathed in, fastening them tight around her waist and praying nothing burst open. So far so good. Little top, no bra, and jacket. She quickly finished her make up with a fifties twist and went to join Peter.

He was lounging in the armchair with one leg over the arm of the couch next to him looking every inch the rocker. Jenna burst out laughing.

‘You’re loving this aren’t you?’ she said.

He sprang up and came to meet her.

‘You look amazing,’ he commented and she did a little twirl. ‘Why don’t we consider this a date?’

‘Like an actual date, with food and cocktails and music…’

‘And several dozen crew members,’ he added.

‘And several dozen crew members.’

‘Also in costume.’

‘Right,’ Jenna said.

‘Otherwise it’s a date, just me and you; Danny and Sandy,’ he smiled, delighted by his idea.

She reached up and kissed him, holding him tight by the collar of his leather jacket.

‘Let’s go!’ she said.

Peter opened the door for her and she tottered through on her heels. She was just starting to make her way down the steps when she heard him singing under his breath.

_Summer loving had me a blast…_

She turned on the step and reached out for his hand to join in. _Summer loving happened so fast…,_ she sang.

_I met a girl crazy for me… …_

_Met a boy cute as can be..._

They locked eyes and grinned, took deep breaths and hammed up the next line:

_Summer days drifting away to oh oh the summer nights_

_Wella Wella Wella, Oh!_

_Tell me more tell me more!_  


Jenna practically skipped down the steps with him, high heels or not, and out into the sunny street. Peter’s car was waiting and he keyed up the _Grease_ soundtrack on the stereo for them to sing along with on the way over to _Eddie’s Diner_. It felt like an old fashioned date, she just wished that Peter was driving a Cadillac and they didn’t have to be so secretive. She wound down the window and let the breeze play across her face, she shouldn’t be so negative, this would be great, they had every excuse to flirt as Sandy and Danny.

She glanced over at Peter and vowed not to get bogged down in the difficult detail of their ever more complicated relationship. She leaned forward to turn up the stereo; determined to have a good night.

_Summer dreams, ripped at the seams…. Oh…. those summer nights!_

It wasn’t to be.


	12. Those Summer Nights Pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part 2 of Those Summer Nights  
> Dressed up and optimistic the pair attend the party.... and then angst. Angst wasn't invited it just gatecrashed.

Glamourous car park, it wasn’t quite how she had pictured the start of the night. She’d grown used to being driven everywhere by crew and now they were parked up in pay and display for the evening. Jenna waited in the car, watched Doctor Who as he purchased a ticket and stuck it on the driver’s side of the windshield to prevent Space Traffic Wardens. It was ridiculous and she had a fit of giggles while Peter came around to her side and opened the door. Old fashioned gentleman, it gave her a warm feeling. He held out his hand while she grabbed it and stood, overbalancing on those daft heels again. He smirked.

‘I will get used to them!’ she protested, ‘Just because I’ve been in trainers all series.’

‘I prefer the heels,’ he said shutting the door behind her.

‘Oh do you, now?’

He lifted his eyebrows briefly in response and then offered his arm, ‘Shall we?’

‘We shall… but slowly,’ she said checking her outfit half convinced the PVC trousers would rip if she bent too far or moved too quickly.

Jenna grinned as they made their way Eddie’s Diner. The area was fairly quiet and they weren’t stopped by fans or passers-by. Perhaps they would get away with it tonight and the usual gang wouldn’t be hanging around on the off chance of seeing them. It wasn’t much to ask, one night of downtime. They round the corner and came across Eddie’s which was heaving by the time they arrived, but it looked like a good number of the patrons were crew. This was good, it relieved the pressure to be ‘on’ and allowed her to relax. Relax and play. She felt a little jig of excitement in her stomach and squeezed Peter’s arm.

‘This is going to be so much fun!’ she said. He looked at her oddly for a moment.

‘Yeah, it is, I’m glad you’re up for it,’ he said, ‘Been worried about you.’

‘Oh don’t worry about me,’ Jenna let go of him and skipped ahead suddenly more confident in her heels. ‘I’m fine. Come on, let’s get something to eat, let’s get a drink.’

Peter raised one hand ‘Driving, but you go ahead.’

She leaned forward and grab him by the hand to drag him through the outdoors seating area, saying hi to a few people hanging out with beers and fries as she went. Inside the diner was bright and cheerful, decorated with Elvis and Marilyn Monroe and filled with fun nostalgia. She headed for the bar and attempted to hop onto one of the high stools there to place their order. After three attempts she dissolved into laughter.

‘Want a hand?’ Peter asked. She nodded and he placed his hands around her waist while she hopped again and this time she landed on the stool. He leaned around her onto the bar and she could feel the heat of his breath in her ear. Jenna shuddered. This was fun, being out and about with him like this, it was so rare. She felt him peck her cheek, just like that, calmly and in public, and he followed it up by squeezing her close while he reached for the menu. Jenna’s stomach was back to doing somersaults of happiness.

‘So,’ he said, ‘What’s it to be?’

Jenna looked down the menu at the variety of burgers. It could only be one thing tonight she thought.

‘The Rebel,’ she said.

‘Nice choice,’ he looked up to where the bartender was waiting for their order.

‘Two Rebels,’ Peter said with a grin, ‘And while we are waiting for that…’ he went on to order the drinks.

Jenna was already off, jumping from the stool she had taken so long to get onto and making for the Juke Box.

‘Oh… Ok…’ Peter said.

It was already playing something schmaltzy but she couldn’t wait for it to end to she ran her finger down the options for something a little more upbeat. Finding it she jabbed the button and turned around with a devilish smile on her face as Rock Around The Clock started to belt out across the diner. She saw one or two people stand up and start moving and so she stared at Peter who put his sunglasses back on and pretended to be invisible.

Jenna pounced forward and pulled on his arm.

‘Oh come on…’ she wheedled. ‘You wanted to make a good night of it.’

‘I don’t dance. I can’t dance, I’m awful at dancing…’ he said, ‘I’m awful at all that physical stuff that needs co-ordination and rhythm.’

‘Not all of it,’ Jenna winked. He choked on the milkshake he’d been sipping and tried to stifle his laughter. ‘Now come on, up, let’s dance.’

To her surprise he gave in immediately and got up with her, letting her spin and jive and twist to her hearts content until she was sweating under the PVC and had to remove the pink jacket. She saw Peters eyes wander down over her body more than once and it just spurred her on all the more, looping her arms round his neck and pressing against him as she moved.

‘Christ Jenna, take it easy,’ he whispered, ‘We’re in public.’

She pressed against him again and then slid her hands down to his buttocks. He yelped. ‘Jenna!’

‘Sorry, couldn’t resist those jeans,’ she said and then leaned up to his ear, ‘I’m all hot and sweaty under this outfit, wish I could take it off for a bit…’ she leaned back again and looked into his eyes, even ran her tongue over her lower lip thoughtfully. She saw him flush and glance away nervously and wondered if she could drag him out the back or somewhere dark outside for a quick kiss, or more, but at that moment the food arrived and he gratefully stepped back and pointed it out.

‘We haven’t finished here,’ Jenna warned and picked up her drink. ‘Oh no Mister, just you wait.’

It was the small hours of the night before she knew it, and the enormous burger she’d devoured when they arrived had apparently done little to soak up the alcohol. Eddie’s had agreed to stay open late and the party was in full swing. However, she could tell Peter was watching her with some concern as she spun around a make shift dance floor with some of the crew, her hair sticking to her face as she perspired. Every now and then she staggered a little and re-caught her balance, whooping with amusement or laughing in high pitched bursts. When after a while even the crew, who were usually pretty up for such fun, were looking at her oddly and suggesting she have a rest, Peter stepped in and removed her from the Diner.

He grabbed her hand where she stood wobbling by the bar and removed the drink from it before propelling her outside into the warm but breezy night. The air was clearer here and the atmosphere just a little cooler than the inside of the diner had become. He kept propelling her, one arm around her to keep her safely upright, until they were outside of earshot and then he sat her down on a bench and stood over her.

Jenna looked up with a guilty little girl expression. ‘You have angry eyebrows on,’ she said jabbing her finger in the air in their direction. ‘Why… why are you angry?’

‘I’m not angry Jenna, but I am worried. What’s got into you. It’s like Lanzarote all over again. Why do you keep doing this?’

‘Am having fun, you told me to have fun…’ she fidgeted, ‘These trousers are not fun…. They look fun, but they don’t feel fun. Sticky. Can I take them off now?’

‘What…? No!’ he exclaimed, you’re out in public.’

‘It’s late, no-one will see!’

‘Someone will see, someone always does. Stop ignoring the question.’ He sat next to her and she immediately flopped her head onto his shoulder. ‘What’s with all the booze and crazy dancing?’

‘Fun,’ she said simply in an unconvincingly sad tone.

‘Is it?’ Peter asked, ‘Because this evening isn’t quite turning out how I imagined…’

‘How you imagine then?’ she asked slurring her words.

‘Some food, a little drink and dancing, some time with the crew…. Not having to haul you out of there before you’re making a fool of yourself and people think you’ve lost the plot. They are seriously worried about you…’

‘Why?’

‘Because the most you usually have is a glass of white wine, I’ve lost track of how much you’ve put away tonight and you’re not used to it.’

She hiccoughed and heard him sigh as he put his arm around her again. ‘I’m going to get you home,’ he said, ‘We can talk in the morning….’

‘I don’t need to go home,’ she said pushing herself up and blinking blearily, ‘There’s more party to come.’

‘Jenna….’

‘Party!’

‘I’m going to get the car, come with me, I’m not leaving you on a bench… and I’m not letting you anywhere near the bar either.’ He stood up and purposefully hauled her up to meet him. The world spun a little and she hiccoughed again. ‘Ok?’ he said.

‘Not sure…’ she admitted with another hiccough.

‘Oh God you’re going to be sick aren’t you?’ he said with the tones of a man who nursed many a person through a heavy session at the pub.

‘No!’ she said defensively.

‘Just do it before you get in the car please,’ he requested as they made their way back to the car park. Jenna was lurching from side to side despite his strong grip on her, so half way through the short walk he stopped them and looked down at her seriously.

‘We have two options,’ he told her, ‘One you take your shoes off and walk in your bare feet, or two, I carry you.’

Jenna laughed and the force of it had her staggering backwards again. ‘Carry me? You?’

‘I’m perfectly capable.’

‘Well I don’t want my feet to be sore…. Carry me,’ she demanded. She watched him bend and scoop her up with unexpected strength and then carry on down the street. Jenna had her arm round his neck and watched his face as they moved. He generally ignored her but then he finally glanced at her eyes.

‘What?’ he said somewhat impatiently.

‘Nothing,’ she said sadly catching his irritation, feeling each step alongside each of his heartbeats. ‘Just take me home.’

Home, after a few minutes in the car trying not to be sick, and she was being helped up the stairs to her apartment. Peter removed her keys and let them both in while she dashed to the bathroom. A few more minutes and some unpleasantness later a cowed and somewhat more sober Jenna emerged, still dressed like Sandy to find Danny just in his T Shirt and jeans with his feet up on the couch and a cup of coffee. He’d made her one too and had the decency to move when she came to sit next to him.

‘Sorry,’ she said.

Peter leaned against the back of the couch with one arm and let the fingers of that hand play through his quiffed hair, undoing the fifties styling as he spoke.

‘What happened?’ he asked.

‘What always happens these days,’ she said.

‘Which is what?’

‘I do something with you, whether it’s at work or here when it’s just the two of us, and I think this is it, this is the last time. Or, I have to remember everything because it’s getting so close to the end. I have to try and remember every detail because I’m going to lose you.’

Peter looked at her sympathetically, ‘I doubt you’ll remember a lot of tonight,’ he said kindly.

‘No,’ she chuckled, though her eyes were wet, ‘I guess not. Just the puking and sobering up bit, and maybe the dance at the start.’

‘And the delicious food…. All that sauce and meat and…’

‘Shut. Up.’

He laughed at her but then there was a long silence as they both sipped their coffee. Misery settled like a blanket over both of them, Jenna infecting peter with a low level of sadness that had been following her everywhere of late.

‘What will we do?’ Jenna asked at last, ‘When the shoot is over?’

She heard him sigh and turned to look at him; found him chewing his thumb.

‘I don’t know,’ he said truthfully enough. ‘I never let myself think that far ahead. This is our bubble, in my head it just exists forever.’

‘Except it doesn’t, does it? It goes ‘pop’ in a couple of weeks and you go back to your wife,’ she saw him flinch a little and briefly close his eyes.

‘I don’t mean to hurt you…’ he said quietly.

‘It’ll hurt whatever we do,’ Jenna said returning to her coffee. The silence returned again and she gathered their mugs and went to wash up. She was horribly sober now and her head had started aching so she downed some paracetamol before returning to the living room. Peter sat on the couch head in hands.

‘Hey,’ she said and he looked up.

‘I should get going,’ he said.

Jenna cocked her head and looked at him. ‘You can’t,’ she said.

‘But it’s like you said, three weeks or so and I go back to my wife, I’m making this worse.’

‘No, you aren’t, we hurting each other, we knew the score when this started and now we’re having the consequences,’ she said, ‘And anyway if three weeks is all we have left I don’t want you to sleep alone in your apartment. I don’t want to be alone either.’

She could see him dithering, wanting to say yes but tormented as ever by his conscience. She decided to jolly him into staying in a last ditch attempt.

‘Peter?’ she said, ‘Just stay, please.’

‘I…’

‘Look…. If you don’t stay I don’t know how I’m going to get out of these trousers, I think they’ve melted and welded themselves to my legs.’

He chuckled lightly and reached for her. ‘Ok,’ he said softly, ‘I can’t say no to you in PVC. Just give me a few minutes.’

Jenna nodded and made her way to the bedroom where she took off her jewellery but left the clothes for him. It took her much longer than was normal just to get her shoes off so Peter would handle the rest, and he’d probably enjoy it. It might cheer him up, he loved to unwrap her like a gift. She collapsed back on the bed and watched the room spin around her. She was sure she’d sobered up a lot, so she must have been really bad earlier. After a few minutes she heard Peter come in and looked to see that he had done roughly the same, leaving himself in T shirt and jeans only. He crawled over to her on the bed.

‘Room spin?’ he asked.

‘Oh yeah.’

He lay down next to her, ‘Long time since I experienced that,’ he commented.

‘You’re not missing out.’

She felt his hand take hers and squeeze; felt him sit up and lean over her, blocking out the spinning ceiling and steadying her vision a little. Then his hands under her top, on her breasts, slowly undressing her, reaching for the zip of her trousers. Peter was skilled at worshipping a woman, at taking his time and relaxing her sufficiently to become completely at ease. He could do hard and fast, but he could also cherish and it was that she asked of him more often than not. She smiled when he successfully removed the PVC after allowing himself few moments to grasp her through it and feel the firm muscle of her behind.

‘You looked incredible in these,’ he said, ‘Your legs, your thighs….’

‘My bum?’

‘Incredible,’ he repeated and she laughed.

‘I’m a fan of the braless top too…’ he said moving over her and allowing her to loop both hands under his t-shirt and draw it up over his body. He was damp with sweat from earlier dancing and the hot diner, and she could resist but to press her nose against his chest and inhale deeply as she undid the buckle of his belt.

He was hard already. If they were honest they had both been thinking about it all night with outright flirting and furtive glances. She suddenly realised why they had left when they had, either on or other of them would have caused a public indecency in due course. Tongues would wag, perhaps were already. It gave her a slight thrill. Jenna tipped her chin up and captured Peter’s lips, kissing him deeply straight away and making him buck and groan against her. She pushed his trousers down and away with his help and then they were together.

The room spin served to add a surreal aspect to the sex. She was under him, loving him, but oddly disconnected physically as the world spun around her and her body just functioned on its own. She kissed and held him trying to recapture their usual intimacy, but instead she was only vaguely aware of the build of pleasure in her pelvis and the rate of her breathing. He brought her to her conclusion alongside him and she felt her body convulse but when her breath slowed and she relaxed back into the pillows the distant feeling remained.

It must be the alcohol, she thought. Things would be better in the morning once it was all out of her system. She frowned and glanced at Peter, dozing next to her now, hoping for a clue to her emptiness, to the problem she felt. She still loved him didn’t she? And he loved her. Well yes, but she also knew what was coming. The geographical separation caused by the end of the show. The inability to see one another in public because of press, fans and his wife. The knowledge he wouldn’t leave her and destroy a thirty year relationship for one, though passionate, that was fraught with obstacles and hurt.

She looked back at the spinning ceiling and felt the nausea return. Part alcohol, part understanding. Her problem wasn’t that she lacked his love, and it wasn’t that she felt truly empty and devoid of emotion. The problem was too much emotion and in a few weeks nowhere to direct it, no way to be with him. Her problem was it was going to end; it was going to happen and there was no stopping it. She couldn’t stick her head in the sand, or the bottle, and she couldn’t hide from the truth.

Her problem was losing him, and her problem was real.

Jenna lay in the dark, the tune from the Juke Box she had heard that night when they had arrived at Eddie’s, playing round and round in her head. She had thought it was schmaltzy before, laughed at it and switched it for something else, but now it seemed fitting.

_If we could start anew, I wouldn't hesitate_

_I'd gladly take you back, and tempt the hands of fate_

_Tears on my pillow, pain in my heart,_

_caused by you, you, you, you, you …_


	13. Ice In The Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of the series, and a decision to be made.

Jenna sat in the back of her car and looked out at the freak hailstorm which was belting down over Cardiff that summers evening. She was finished filming, and had been escorted from the studio quietly. There was a wrap party later to consider, but not until Peter had finished a few bits and bobs tomorrow, so in the meantime she was looking forward to a peaceful evening. Well as peaceful as it could be when your stomach was constantly churning and your eyes were always wet.

She listened to the hammer of the hailstones on the roof and wondered when the world had become so harsh. Hers had long been a world of make believe and fun, but things were taking a different path now. The driver looked round and queried her with his expression. Time to get out.

She made a dash for the apartment doors, covering her head as best she could with the script to _Hell Bent_ , her final episode, but the stones still managed to catch her. On her cheeks, on her hands and arms. She hadn’t worn a coat on a hot summer morning on her way to work, she hadn’t envisaged the giant hailstones raining from the sky or the cool air on an August night. The little pebbles stung and nipped and added to the discomfort and irritation she already felt.

Jenna slammed the door behind her and paused trying to straighten herself out. She smoothed her dress and her hair, tried to dry off her bare arms a little and started up the stairs. She was angry with the weather and upset about her day. Fearful of the future. A difficult combination and one she was probably best dealing with alone.

She came to her front door and found him standing there, leaning against the wall to the right, head down, hands in pockets. He looked miserable, wet from the hailstorm which had caught him too, and she realised she probably did as well. There were still tiny pellets of hail melting slowly in his hair. Peter looked up at the sound of her steps.

‘Hi,’ he said quietly.

 

The last week was awful. The strained cheer between bursts of work.  The carry on as normal, it’s just another episode attitude she tried to cultivate and failed to sustain. The way the work, the script and its parallels preoccupied Jenna entirely and tormented her. She was emotional and it was close to the surface, and it kept breaking through. Each take was a trial, standing opposite Peter at the diner counter and watching his face. The script was upsetting enough, never mind the reality of what was to come. She couldn’t get her lines out without choking on the lump in her throat that seemed to be with her every minute of the day. She couldn’t go a few minutes without having her make up touched up where a stray tear had smudged it.

Peter sat there calmly with his guitar and his dusty suit and looked at her with his warm blue eyes; feigned no recognition when she said the woman he was looking for could be her. What if that’s what would happen after this week? What if they went their separate directions and became strangers? She watched the subtly of his acting, the way his posture changed when he walked through the door towards her, the way he let his eyes smile from time to time and wasn’t so sure. He would always remember her, wouldn’t he? He was just trying to protect her. The reality was they couldn’t be together, for both their sakes and others.

They had deliberately asked to film those scenes last, the lines were powerful and the concept was utterly heart-breaking. They’d worked together so closely and for so long that people expected it to be hard for them, but maybe not this hard. Their director was somewhat protective of her slightly wobbly stars and the crew was minimum, but it still felt like they were acting out their lives for all to see. Jenna couldn’t separate life and art from moment to moment.

Finished with the shots on location, the last day moved back to the set and the final scene she would ever share with him. Peter hugged her close at the side-lines before they started, his emotions almost as raw and visible as hers, and she almost began crying before ‘action’ had been called. It went on and on. Every time she turned from the door for a last glimpse her eyes just welled up. She was supposed to be embracing the bittersweet, setting the Doctor free of the memory of her that had kept him trapped for billions of years, going on her own adventure, but she couldn’t get the tone of it right.

The idea of their characters parting, the idea of _them_ parting, was killing her. She turned back to retrace her steps to the door and try again, knowing Peter was still behind her, out of costume, his acoustic guitar slung over his shoulder playing her exiting theme. Except he wasn’t really playing for Clara, he was playing for her.

She couldn’t look at him when the scene finished at last. She still had work to do, some shots with Maisie to finish with, but the era had already ended as far as she was concerned. She stood leaning against the door trying to squash the tears and politely continue. Be professional. Talk to Peter later, they still had to work out what to do. Each conversation they had, ended with both of them so upset it became pointless. Well they had to decide something tonight, they’d run out of time.

Deep down she already knew the answer but she had to keep hope or she wouldn’t get through the day. She knew she was kidding herself but that’s what she did wasn’t it, pretend, that was her job?

They would talk, and they would work something out, she told herself, she could always rely on Peter to do that. Quite what, she didn’t know yet and her mind argued with her relentlessly. There was no solution. She would lose him. Jenna took a long steadying breath and challenged herself to carry on, fortify her emotions for the last scenes she’d ever do on the show and for the decisions that would have to be made later.

She looked up, but Peter was gone. Jenna glanced around the set, certain she would see him in a corner or behind a camera, but he wasn’t to be found and then there it was, all of a sudden, the pain she’d half expected and waited on; the tightness in her chest, the ripping feeling as her pulse sped up. She couldn’t kid herself. This was going to hurt, so, so much, this would be the worst broken heart she’d ever have.

 

 

‘Hi,’ she answered, stopping a few feet from her door. They stood awkwardly mirroring each other. Never awkward before, now the pair of them were limbs and eyes and anxiety. Peter was first to crack.

‘Can I come in?’ he asked, ‘I think we need to sort this… somehow…’

She nodded, currently incapable of speech, and let him in; watched him wander towards the sofa.

‘I see you got caught in the hail,’ he said, for something to say, she thought.

‘Yeah, stingy, unexpected, its… still in your hair,’ Jenna put down her bag and watched him dust his grey curls down. Hailstones scattered on the carpet, just one or two, just remnants, ‘You can sit down,’ she added when she saw him hovering uncertainly, ‘In fact please do, I’m nervous enough.’

He gave her a sympathetic look and sat, encouraging her to join him. The room felt very still, slightly dark but illuminated in one corner by two streaks of evening sunshine. The hail had stopped and the light had an odd quality to it, the streets below sodden. Around them Jenna’s things were already in boxes, some sealed with tape, others lying open for a final few items. It gave them both a horrible sense of an ending. This had been their place, so many hours passed together on this couch, so much laughter and tenderness.

She was crying before she knew it.

‘Jenna, please don’t,’ Peter pulled her against him and tucked her head under his chin. She buried herself against his chest and tried to stifle her tears but they just wouldn’t stop. All day they had lurked under the surface, bubbling up and being forced down again. They had to come out sometime. He rubbed her back and soothed her until it had finally passed and then sat still while she counted his heartbeats. Jenna knew why he was so quiet.

‘You’ve come to call all of this off haven’t you?’ she asked sadly, ‘Come to burst the bubble.’

She heard him sigh but not disagree.

‘It’s ok,’ she said, ‘Knew it was coming.’

‘I don’t have much option,’ he answered. ‘I’m a married man and I let myself go too far, I should never have… This is my fault, Jenna I…’ he was hunting for words, a way to explain his guilt. Jenna pushed herself up and looked at him; his pale face and his hurt eyes.

‘I don’t want this to be the evening where we apportion each other with blame before we separate,’ she said, ‘We both are adults, we both knew what this entailed and in theory how much it could hurt. Admittedly now I’m here, it seems to hurt a hell of a lot more, but I went into that willingly, so did you. We treated each other well, we had fun… but the bubble exists here, and here only, for everyone’s sake, right?’

Peter hesitated, ‘Do you mean all of that?’ he asked.

‘No,’ she admitted, ‘But it sounds good, yeah?’

‘Almost convincing.’

Jenna smiled sadly and looked down. ‘What was the line? It was sad, and it was beautiful… and it’s over.’

His hands came to take hers warm between both of his, ‘Not quite,’ he said, ‘It wasn’t sad, it was wonderful, and it’s not quite over, not until tomorrow.’

She glanced back up at him, squeezing his hand and edging back into his embrace. ‘It was beautiful though? We agree on that bit?’

His eyes sparkled, ‘Yes,’ he said softly, ‘It was.’

The rattle of hail on the window turned her living room into a hidden sanctuary, warm and dark as the sunlight eked away under the dark clouds outside. Jenna could hear surprised yelps from passers by dashing to shelter, completely unaware of the scene playing out above them, and she had been right; Jenna has been so right.

It was so painful. To knowingly let her heart break that evening. To kiss him, for the last time. To slip her fingers between buttons and push fabric from skin. To taste lips and neck and thigh and know that soon only the memory of him would be hers. Jenna climbed into Peter’s lap and felt his arms come around her, unzip her dress, push it up over her hips. She barely broke their kiss as she wriggled to free herself from clothes completely and hook down his trousers. She wanted him in ways she never had before, in ways that proved to him just what all of this had meant. He had to see, feel, remember every moment of this with her, because she would never forget, and she would never truly be able to thank him for all he had given her.

His time, and his humour. His kindness and his concern. His support and his generosity. His friendship, his advice. His gentle touch. His love.

When it was done the street outside was dark and the pavements soaked but nothing more fell from the sky. It was clear and speckled with stars and a moon which shone just enough for her to see his face. He was watching her sadly, his fingers tracing her features.

‘Sad… and beautiful,’ he said.

‘And over?’

Peter looked into her eyes and she watched a single tear track down his cheek in the cold moonlight.

‘And over…’ he confirmed, ‘I really think…. And over.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ..... to be continued, possibly?


End file.
